


Of Tabloids and Trailers

by Caedmon, untemperedschism2005



Series: Alpha Epsilon [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Eventual Smut, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5683633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/untemperedschism2005/pseuds/untemperedschism2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler had been nothing like what he'd expected. He never saw her coming.</p><p>Co-written with Untempered Schism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This is a gift for thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, who requested Nine/Rose as co-stars.
> 
> THIS IS NOT RPF. This is a fic about the Ninth Doctor and Rose Tyler, not the actors who portrayed them. I did everything I could think of to make this as unlike RPF as possible. 
> 
> As usual:  
> I own nothing. Not when it comes to Doctor Who, anyway.  
> Comments and kudos feed the muse. Thank you.  
> Send me prompts! caedmonfaith.tumblr.com
> 
> UPDATED 9/20/16 - this story is continuing and co-authored with Untempered Schism. Thank you for reading!!

**_John and Rose’s May/December Romance!_ **

**_Forbidden Love!_ **

**_How John and Rose Found Love on the Set!_ **

John Noble threw the rag down with a loud curse, then leaned his head backward and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d been in this business for fifteen years and mostly escaped tabloid attention. Then Rose Tyler, Britain’s sweetheart, was cast to star alongside him as the heroine to his villain and that streak had been shot all to hell. 

They’d gotten close over the months of filming. Incredibly close. Closer than John had ever been to anyone else, when you got right down to it. John had lived a quiet life, out of the spotlight despite being a well-known actor, being cast over and over again as the villain who was vanquished at the end of every film he made. On set, he was known for being intense; a dark cloud on otherwise happy proceedings. “The Oncoming Storm,” they called him. He was serious, studious, a professional. He had no use for young girls and their shenanigans. He did his job and retreated to his trailer.

He’d been completely unprepared for Rose Tyler. 

He’d expected a bubblehead worried only about looking good, being admired, scoring freebies from designers, and getting into the best hot spots around town. He’d expected her to be flighty, just another blonde starlet out to make it, whatever it takes. She was his junior by damn near two decades and he had no tolerance for the stupidity of youth. Beyond all that, him. 

She’d been absolutely nothing like he expected, and had frankly blown him away with her generosity, kindness and compassion.

The two of them bonded quickly on-set, which led to a close friendship off-set. They shared a love of classic literature and philosophy, and both enjoyed travelling - just for pleasure, not work. He was amazed to find her well-versed in a variety of topics that interested him, and when she didn’t know something, she asked him. He provided her answers, and she drank them up. She brought tea to his trailer every morning prepared just the way he liked it - two sugars, no milk - and took her morning tea with him.

Touching had been natural for them: they were required to be in close proximity on the set and touch each other frequently. He had been puzzled but just gone along with it the first time they were walking along and she took his hand. The same night, she hugged him before leaving him outside the door to her trailer. Done once to break the ice, she started grabbing his hand any old time and hugging him for no reason at all. He was surprised the first time he reached for her hand and she gave him a shy smile. He was even more surprised the first time she curled up next to him on his couch while they watched telly together.

It wasn’t long before he began to crave the contact with her, to long for the feeling of her hand in his, to wish for the smell of her shampoo and perfume he got when they were wrapped up in each other’s arms. He cursed his leather jacket for not retaining her scent the way cloth would. 

When John realized he was in love with her, the knowledge staggered him and he didn’t sleep all night.

He chastised himself, telling himself that surely this young flower of a human couldn’t _possibly_  ever feel that way about him. It was pointless for him to attempt to win her. He could be her friend and nothing more. It was just an infatuation he had, John told himself. A little crush. A midlife crisis. It’d work itself out over time. 

Then she gave him that tongue-touched smile and truth crashed all around him, destroying the careful wall of lies he’d built.

Still, though, he couldn’t have her. She was beauty made flesh. She was kindness in human form. She was _good_  - much too good for him. He could never have her.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting. It didn’t stop him from taking her hand in his when they went to grab coffee together, or on a stroll to get ice cream after they had lunch together. It had never occurred to him that the paps would follow them, take pictures and publish them all over every available format.

People scoffed in blogs and articles, saying that the poor girl had been blinded. _What did she see in him?_  some wondered. John Noble was nobody’s heartthrob, hence his casting in all the bad-guy roles and being permitted by the paps to live a quiet life (until now). But the gossip columns were saying he never had never looked happier in his life, but it was a shame that the Oncoming Storm, the bitter old man, had corrupted someone so young and obviously full of light as Rose. He could almost feel the shake of people’s heads in his general direction. People were laughing at her for her poor taste in men. It was unbearable.

And he’d done this to her. He’d put her in this position. It was entirely his fault. 

His door opened without preamble and Jack Harkness, his other co-star, strode in like it was his own trailer. John scowled at the American prettyboy with real movie-star good looks as he took a seat across from him at the small table. 

“Ah,” he said, picking up the magazine and looking at it. “You’ve seen the latest gossip.”

John grunted in reply.

“Don’t pay any attention to it. They don’t know anything, not really.”

John leveled his gaze at him. “There’s nothing to know.”

Jack leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “ _Sure_  there’s not.”

John looked away, picked up a tabloid and pretended to study it. Really, he just wanted to see the photo of he and Rose together, even if it was taken by a pap five hundred feet away, and even if he was weak for wanting such a thing. He’d likely never see her again anyway, not like they were in the photo. They were smiling at each other in it, and her smile twisted him in knots, just as it did at that moment a week ago.

“She’s my co-star. We’re friends. We laugh and joke together on set. That’s all.”

“That’s _not_  all, and you know it,” Jack retorted. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other. I’ve seen you at her trailer and her at yours. There’s something there, John.”

John shook his head, denying the accusation more to himself than to Jack. “There’s not. There’s really not.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jack burst out. “Just get over yourself. She _likes_  you, dumbass.”

“Alright then,” John said, irritation leaving his words rough. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat. “Let’s say you’re right. Alright? Let’s all delude ourselves and say you’re right and there’s something there. There’s not, mind you, but I can play the hypothetical game.”

“The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks.”

John ignored him. “What’d it do to her reputation to take up with the likes of me? A dark, broody old man. The tabs will have a field day with this, Jack, and you know it.”

“So?”

“The hell do you mean, ‘so’?” he sputtered, outraged.

“Just what I said. So what?”

“This is her _career_ , Harkness. She’s bound to be absolutely furious with me.”

“I don’t think she cares, to be honest.”

“The entire world expects her - _wants_  her - to take up with some young prettyboy. Look at her last bloke, Adam something-or-other.”

  
“Mitchell,” Jack supplied.

“That’s the one.”

“He’s a prick, and she ditched him as soon as she figured that out,” Jack informed him.

“She didn’t ditch that other prettyboy, Rickey.”

“Mickey,” Jack said, amused. “And she did ditch him. Ages ago.”

John rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. The boy was a good-looking idiot. That’s what she’s attracted to, not an old, big-eared curmudgeon who plays daft men or villains because he’s so damned ...sour. She’d be better off with that Rory bloke, or with you. You’re much more her type.”

“Rory is married and she’s not my type.”

John snorted. “Everyone is your type.”

Jack threw up his hands. “Have it your way. Go ahead and sulk here, alone, telling yourself that you can’t have her. Meanwhile, she’s waiting and wishing for you. Not some prettyboy, you dumbshit, _you_. And if you let a girl like that slip away because you’re too damned dumb to see what’s right there in front of you, then you don’t deserve her.”

Jack stood to go, turning back one last time. “Make your move. I promise she’ll say yes.”

“Go away, Jack. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jack threw up his hands and left without another word.

~*~O~*~

He passed her trailer six times in less than an hour. He didn’t need to visit the set, filming was done for the day. He didn’t need to go to hair and makeup, he didn’t need to go to catering. He needed to talk to Rose. He needed the absolution only she could give for being old and broken and tainting her with his darkness. 

But he couldn’t, he simply couldn’t. She was bound to be livid, and he couldn’t stand even the thought of her hatred.

On the seventh pass, she opened the door and called out to him. “Oi! You tryin’ to wear a groove into the pavement in front of my trailer? Get your arse in here!”

He looked up at her, noting the irritation in her voice, a sharp blade of fear stabbing him in the chest. She sounded angry, annoyed, and that could only mean one thing.

Like a man condemned, he turned and went where the lady wanted him to go.

She held the door open for him until he got there and grabbed it himself, then she went inside and had a seat on the little sofa. He climbed the stairs and turned to shut the door behind them.

“Lock it,” she commanded. 

John blinked up at her, but his wrist turned and the lock snicked into place.

“Come sit with me.” She patted the seat next to her, entirely too close to her and not nearly as close as he wanted to be. 

John sat.

Rose kissed him. 

It took him half a second before he realized what was happening, then his lips were rolling against hers. He felt her tongue breach the seam of his lips and opened, shocked in spite of himself when she took the invitation and deepened the kiss. 

It occurred to him that he should probably do something with his hands, but he had no idea what. Experimentally, he put one hand on her cheek and let his thumb glide against the soft skin he found there. She made a little sound in his mouth, and his control strained the leash. He became the aggressor, leaning forward to press his mouth more firmly to her and sending his tongue on a chase after hers. 

It had been so long, so very long since John had felt anything like this, and even when he had, it hadn’t been like _this_. This was heat. This was fire. This was _right_. And by God, he wanted more.

Rose began to pull away and he fought down a moan of disappointment. She nibbled his bottom lip and suckled it as she drew back, and he failed to bite back a whimper. She smiled, releasing him and pressing her forehead against his, biting her own lip.

“You better now?” she asked in a voice that was a little out of breath.

“I...yes?” he stammered. “Been wanting to do that for a while now, me. But I don’t understand...why - ?”

She shut him up with her own mouth, but this time he was ready. He pulled her across his lap, one arm around her waist and the other hand on her thigh. There was no hesitation in the kiss; it was possessive, demanding. Teeth clacked and tongues dueled and John knew, suddenly, why there were so many love songs. But none of them could ever do this - _her_  - justice. This was bliss. Her lips were nirvana. Her mouth was heaven. John was certain that Rose Tyler, sitting on his lap and snogging the fool out of him was paradise.

_I’m lost_ , he thought. _I’m a goner._ If ever there was any hope for him it had dissipated, taken away by the soft pillows of Rose Tyler’s lips on his.

They broke for air, and Rose snuggled her head onto his shoulder. John put his arms around her and held her, noting that his heart seemed thudding a double-beat and trying to control it with sheer force of will. Rose sighed in his arms and he closed his eyes. He was terrified and utterly content at the same time.

“Did you see the papers?” she asked in a soft voice.

He stiffened, and she brought her hand up to his face, sliding it back towards his hair just as he had done a few minutes ago, stroking her thumb along his jawline, soothing him. “Hey, it’s okay.” She twisted her head just enough to kiss his neck, then settled back into his shoulder.

“Yeah. I saw it.”

“There was a leak,” she said, and brought her hand down to rest in the center of his chest, the light pressure calming him despite her words. “Someone on set went to the tabs and sold the story.”

“I’m so sorry, Rose, I-”

She raised his head from his shoulder and put her finger over his lips, halting the Oncoming Babbling Apology. 

“Do I seem sorry? Because I’m not.”

She removed her finger and replaced it with her lips for just a second before she lay her head on his shoulder again. He instinctively pulled her closer and slid his cheek along her soft hair. 

“Everyone is wanting to know what you’re doing with me,” he said, expecting to be shut down again. Of course, if she kissed him again, it would be worth it. “They think we’re some kind of...of lovers.”

“Want to put some truth to that?” she replied, and he could hear the grin in her voice.

He chuckled in response; surely she must be joking. 

“They just don’t know you like I do,” she assured him, stroking his chest gently. “You’re wonderful.”

“M’really not, Rose,” he said, closing his eyes.

“You are. Nobody else understands me like you do. Nobody else makes me feel this way.”

“M’too old for you -”

“Hush, John,” she admonished. “It doesn’t matter how old you are or how old I am. We match each other. We fit. That’s what matters, yeah?”

He nodded, mute. He’d certainly felt matched with her, like two bits of a puzzle that fit together just so. He’d never expected to feel...complete. But now that he did, he didn’t want to let her go. For this moment, this shining moment, he held her and nothing could get him to release her if she didn’t want to go. He’d let go for only one word from her... that she didn’t seem to want to give. She seemed to want this. 

She must be mad.

“There’s nobody to please but me and you,” she said.

“You know that’s not true. We’re being tried in the court of public opinion.”

She sat up to look at him. “And you feel like a criminal, yeah?” 

He nodded. “A bit. The tabs are painting me in that light. S’hard not to feel like maybe they’re right.”

“You’re not a criminal. We - you and I - we’re the victims here. If anyone is to blame, they are.”

John grinned. “That’s not how they feel about it. The rest of the world thinks you’ve been blinded.”

“Sod the rest of the world.”

“Rose, seriously. I should probably stay away from you for a while.”

“No.” She lowered her head to his shoulder and put her arms around his neck. 

_Bloody hell_. She was making it difficult to think, much less reason with her.

“If you’re seen with me -”

“Good.” Her voice was firm, stubborn. “I like being seen with you.”

He scoffed. “You’re daft.”

“M’not. M’proud to be seen with you, John Noble. I’m proud of those pictures.”

“How could you possibly -”

She sat up straight in his lap, looking him dead in the eye. He tried hard to pay attention to her words and not the dancing fire in her amber eyes. 

“Look, I wish they’d leave us alone, too, yeah? But they’re not going to. We can’t put up a fight, it’d be pointless. All we can do is live our lives. They’re going to write their stories and take their pictures and say all kinds of things about us. They can’t fathom what we mean to each other, so they won’t leave us be. So let them write what they want to write. Let them say what they want. In a few months, we won’t matter to them at all. In the meantime, they’re going to do everything in their power to make us miserable, but they can’t keep us apart unless you want them to.” She peered at him. “Do you want them to?”

He shook his head a little. “I want to protect you.”

“You can’t. You can only be with me or not. Those are your options.” John opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “And I want to be with you.”

Mad hope seized him. The kissing, the cuddling, her words...all of it made him believe that she wanted the same thing he did, but he was afraid. He didn’t dare believe. It occurred to him to kiss her, to try to gauge her intent by her response, but if he did that and she didn’t want what he hoped she did, he would have ruined everything and be crushed in the process. 

The only other way was to ask. “Rose, what do you mean?”

“I mean that I want you, John. In my life. I want dinner out and dinner in and the two of us hand in hand on red carpets and all that jazz. I want one or the other of our trailers to become almost completely disused. I want the next batch of pictures the paps get to be of us snogging each other senseless. I want to roll over in the morning and see you lying there. All of it. I want to be _with_  you, John Noble, in every sense of the word.”

He didn’t answer, just kissed her instead: his mouth claiming hers, his tongue planting its flag in hers and declaring it as his. She responded enthusiastically, clutching his face and holding it to hers. Teeth clacked as their lips bruised each other and tongues dueled. She turned in his arms to straddle his legs, and he wrapped his arms around her, splaying his hands on her back to pull her body close to his, as close as he could get her. She moaned into his mouth and rolled her hips, mimicking the act that had tortured his dreams for two solid months.

She broke for air and he immediately began to trail kisses down her chin, her jawline, ending with her earlobe between his teeth. She rolled her hips again, grinding down on him, and he clutched her bum reflexively, guiding her movements.

“My bedroom is… _hnnng_...it’s five feet that way.”

He didn’t answer right away; his mouth was busy sucking her neck, marking her. When he released her skin with a pop, he soothed the red area with his tongue and teeth.

“Is that what you want, Rose?”

“Christ, yes.”

He stood, wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her where the lady wanted him to go.

~*~O~*~

Rose lay beside him, both of them gloriously nude and pressed tightly together. He had one arm around her, tugging her close to him and his other hand played with her fingers lazily. She had one leg comfortably tossed across his. 

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“I apologize.”

“For what?” he asked, puzzled.

“I thought you were just bragging when you said you had the moves.”

He gave her a goofy grin. “Told you so. Came first in jiggery-pokery, me.”

She touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth. “Actually, I think I came first.”

“Too right you did,” he said, smug.

Rose giggled and relaxed against him for a few minutes. Then she asked, “What are we going to tell people?”

“I thought you didn’t care,” he grinned, then kissed her hair.

“I don’t. Our love is none of their business.”

She didn’t remark on the tension she suddenly felt in the shoulder she lay on or the arm surrounding her. 

“No, it’s not,” he agreed after a minute.

“Penny for ‘em.”

John contemplated for a minute. “I like to think that I know what I’m doing with my life. Like to have a plan, me. I like to know what’s coming, best I can.” He chuckled. “Never saw you coming, though.”

“Surprise?”

“ _Fantastic_ surprise.”

She smiled against his chest, then propped herself up on an elbow to look at him. “So you like to tell the future, eh? Go on, then. Tell me what’s in our future.”

“It’s bright. It’s happy. I don’t exactly have the words to describe it, but it’s way beyond what the rest of the world calls ‘love’.”

She smiled brilliantly up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her, just a soft brushing of the lips. “That’s why I’m here, and I’ll still be here tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Rose return home from an extended vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! We're back! 
> 
> This story started as a one-shot back in January. This past spring, Untempered Schism read it, and told me that she thought it should be continued into a multichap. A little discussion had the two of us agreeing to play 'fic tennis', with her writing one section and bouncing it over to me, etc. We've been working very hard on this fic for several months, we're _continuing_ to work hard on it, and there's really no end in sight at the moment. Hopefully, we'll write a nice, long story for you guys. 
> 
> This chapter (and the next few chapters) are written by Untempered Schism herself and beta'd by Caedmon and Develish1. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy...more is coming soon!

He was glad Rose had the foresight to put the kettle on before they made the second trip down and then back up the three flights of stairs to his loft. John’s ancient Mini Cooper, that she swore was bigger on the inside, had finally been unloaded and was secure in her parking space for the night. John groaned as he rounded the last landing and trudged up the final half flight of stairs.

“I must have been insane to buy this place,” he muttered as he set down a battered, overstuffed suitcase and a bulging backpack to unlock the door to his loft. He held it open for Rose to enter first and she scooted past him, dragging her chic rolling suitcase and matching carry-on into the cramped entryway that opened into an expansive loft. “It costs a fortune to light and heat,” he continued, on a grouchy roll. “It needs repainting, and the elevator only works one week out of every month. I’m gettin’ too old to be runnin’ up and down those bloody stairs all the time.”

“Oh, just listen to yourself!” Rose admonished, laughing. She whirled around to grin at him, shaking her head in bemusement. He was dragging the rest of their luggage out of the hallway into the loft, but he raised his head in response to her teasing scold, a frown furrowing his brow. He was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a good cup of tea. They’d been on the road all day.

Rose stepped forward to press a kiss to his lips and ruffled her fingers through his hair. He’d been letting it grow while they’d been traveling and she’d told him he wasn’t going to cut it short it again, because she liked it this way. He had no intention of doing anything she didn’t want him to. The lady usually got what she wanted, he was too much in love with her to deny her anything. Hell, he’d wear it in braids if she asked him to. To be honest, he was still gobsmacked that she was in love with him. The past year had been like a dream come true for him. 

“Thought that was your job,” he growled. “To listen to me?” He leaned back against the doorjamb, his hands settling on her waist to pull her against him for a proper snog. The hallway was deserted at this hour of the night, so there was no fear of paparazzi snapping a photo. Rose stood on her toes, clutching the lapels of his leather jacket as she gave as good as she got. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, he thought, his hands caressing her beneath her coat as he inhaled the unfamiliar scent of hotel shampoo mixed with the intoxicating olfactory cocktail of his Rose.

“Mmmmmm,” he murmured as he reluctantly released her, a tender smile on his well-kissed lips. “You smell good.” He met her adoring gaze, his grumpy mood melting away like an ice cube on a summer’s day. Snogging Rose always seemed to have that effect on him. 

“Your loft is brilliant!” she insisted, resuming their conversation, betraying only a bit of breathlessness after dragging luggage up three flights of stairs and being snogged half-way to hypoxia by him. “You’ve got a walk-in shower for two, a soaking tub, heated towel racks and a gourmet kitchen. Not to mention the view.” She waved her arm at the two story wall of windows that faced the Thames. It was dark and the lights of the city were spread out beneath them with only the light from the corridor and the kitchen to illuminate the rest of the flat they hadn’t seen for almost five months. He spared a momentary glance at the night sky through the windows and then shrugged, kicking the door shut behind them and locking it.

“Okay, you’re right about the bathroom and kitchen. And the view,” he grudgingly admitted. Actually, as spectacular as the view from his loft was, Rose was the view he liked best. He would always cherish the memory of the first night Rose had spent here. His heart-rate accelerated as he recalled gazing in awe at her gorgeous body, spread out like a mouthwatering feast on his king size bed. The light of a full moon had been shining through the windows, washing her golden hair silver as it fanned out around her head like spun silk. Just the sight of her, naked, one hand extended in an invitation for him to join her, had filled him with such an abundance of joy and gratitude that even the memory of it made his breath hitch. 

He still couldn’t comprehend how his Rose had managed to fall in love with a moody old sod with a face like a gargoyle, but he’d stopped questioning it. What they had together was astounding. It defied explanation. He’d once scoffed at the romantic notion of soul mates, but Rose had made him a believer. He couldn’t imagine his life without her now.

“I love this flat,” she insisted, cupping one palm against his cheek to force him to meet her gaze. “There are no curtains or posh wall-to-wall carpet, but it’s homey and full of character. Your bookcases are full of amazing books and all the treasures you’ve brought back from your travels makes it unique and brilliant, just like you. Your sofa is well past its prime, though. You really need to either replace it or get it reupholstered. Do you know that the first time I came here, this place reminded me of Indiana Jones’s house? It’s the kind of place I’ve always been drawn to, and it’s a perfect reflection of you, John.”

He grinned at her, shaking his head. “You make me and my loft sound a lot more interesting than we actually are.”

“And you still can’t accept a compliment,” she teased.

“You’ve met my mother, love. Compliments are a new concept for me. Criticism, on the other hand, is an old friend. It’s probably for the best, an actor has to know how to deal with criticism and rejection. Mum gave me a good grounding in both.”

“She certainly did,” Rose agreed with a touch of exasperation. “I never met Geoffrey, but he had to have been a saint to put up with her.”

“Dad was good for her,” John replied, smiling. “She was different when she was with him, softer and happier. He brought out the best in her, the same way you do with me. My dad would have adored you, Rose. I know he would.”

“Silver-tongued seducer,” she teased.

“Is it working?” he retorted with a smouldering glance she knew only too well. She laughed.

“I thought you were exhausted from the stairs?”

“Got me second wind,” he explained, looking hopeful. “It’s a limited time offer, you know. You’re lucky an old man like me can even get it up at all after such a long day.”

“You’ve got the stamina of a eighteen year old,” she bantered with a scoff.

“I’ve got plenty of inspiration.” His gaze traveled over her slow enough to illustrate his point. Rose called it his undressing-her-with-his-eyes look. Perceptive woman, his Rose.

“I’ve got a growling stomach,” she informed him with a sultry wink that he hoped was a promise. “We haven’t eaten since lunchtime.”

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with _your_ flat,” he said, with a grin. “You could do with a bigger bed, mind you, but that isn’t the flat’s fault.” he flashed her a wicked grin.

“I like _your_ bed,” she insisted, favoring him with the tongue-touched smile that drove him wild. “Like it more now you’ve got proper linens for it.”

“You’re turning me into some kind of domesticated metro-sexual,” he grumbled, but his heart wasn’t in it. He loved it when she nested here. If he had his way she’d never leave. “Never thought I’d have a bed with duvet covers, pillow shams and two-thousand thread count Ethiopian cotton sheets--”

“Egyptian cotton sheets,” she corrected from over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. “And it’s only six-hundred thread count per square inch, you daft thing.”

“Donna said she’d let the cleaner in and make sure those fancy bed linens got changed,” he said, following her. “She said she also bought us some groceries. Oh, and there is supposed to be one of her wonderful shepherd pies in the fridge for us. She made one for us and one for her and Lee. She knew we’d be getting in late, and we’d also probably be starving.”

“Your sister is an angel from heaven!” Rose exclaimed. “The pie is already warming up in the oven and she got a large box of PG Tips. I adore you, John, but you always buy rubbish tea.”

“Oi! There is nothing wrong with builder’s tea. It’s good value for the price,” he retorted, with a smirk. He didn’t mind her posh tea in the least, but he loved to tease her about it.

“You’re out of luck then, love, we drank the last of it before we left. Guess you’ll have to do without,” Rose taunted with a tongue touched smile. “Oh, and she bought you two packs of Hobnobs, and one of Jammy Dodgers for me!”

“Donna is always trying to fatten me up,” he grumbled, snagging one of the chairs at the kitchen table and dropping into it. “I keep trying to explain to her that the camera adds ten pounds, but she insists it’s just my imagination.” 

“I wish it was,” Rose replied with feeling. “I’d have gained ten pounds on our holiday if we hadn’t done so much walking.”

“Don’t forget the running,” he reminded her with a nostalgic grin.

“That was just in Istanbul,” she said with a negligent wave of her free hand.

“And Greece,” he added, watching her putter about his kitchen for a moment, contentment washing over him.

“Yes, but you can’t blame _that_ on the paparazzi,” she said. “I _told_ you to order in English or point at something on the menu. It’s not like there weren’t pictures. God only knows what you actually said to that waiter.”

“Something indecent about his sister, I assume, judging by the punch he threw,” he replied with a scowl, rubbing his cheek and sulking. She stifled a laugh, remembering the time her mum had slapped him on that same cheek for something he hadn’t even done. She had never been able to convince Jackie that not everything the tabloids said about him was true, but John was growing on her. It was a work in progress.

Rose set a mug of tea in front of him and dropped a kiss to the top of his head. He wrapped his hands around the mug gratefully, knowing she had fixed it just the way he liked: two sugars, no milk. His mobile buzzed in his pocket and he shifted in his seat to retrieve it.

“Ianto, shouldn’t you be writing scripts?” he teased. “Last week you told me you and the other writers were burning the midnight oil to get them finished, and it’s just gone one!” He set the mobile to speaker and set it on the table a moment later. “She’s right here, I’ve put you on speaker.”

“Hello, Ianto,” Rose said, carrying plates, silverware and napkins to the table. 

“How was the drive?” the tinny sounding voice of their showrunner wafted up from the mobile.

“Long,” John said at the same time Rose said “Lovely.” Ianto laughed. 

“I got a call from Neil Gaiman,” Ianto said. “I told you he’s doing three more scripts this season, but he wanted to know if I’d agree to a substantial change in the story arc.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Rose prompted. “He’s one of my favorite writers after you, Yan. What does he have up his sleeve this year?”

“Let me start by saying that all the writers love his idea. It’s brilliant, and it solves a problem we’ve been struggling with,” Ianto said, obviously stalling a bit, which was unusual for him. “Since we’re locked in for thirteen episodes again this series we would have the time to do it up properly.”

“What’s the catch?” John asked, frowning.

“Well, you know that Harold Saxon has been holding out for more money this series,” Ianto replied. “He and his agent have also been refusing to sign his contract until we offer him top billing over both of you, and a contract for another series.” 

“They’re not going to agree to that,” John said, shaking his head. “This is a science fiction show, if they pay that show pony what he thinks he’s worth there will be no money for special effects!”

“And there is no way he is going to get them to commit to another series now,” Rose said. “That’s unheard of.”

“You’re both right,” Ianto agreed. “Neil knew about Saxon’s stonewalling, all the writers knew, because if he didn’t sign it would mean we’d have to work around his absence. When Neil called me last week, he suggested a fantastic way to explain Saxon’s character’s absence. He wants your characters to get pulled into an alternate universe.”

“What about Jack?” Rose said, anxious for her friend. She knew he was counting on being in all the episodes this season.

“Oh, of course Jack gets pulled into the alternate universe, too. The thing is, there will be duplicates of all three of you in that universe, so it’ll be an amazing opportunity for you to play the roles of your alternate selves, who will have very different personalities. The alternate universe is a much more dystopian environment, and the three of you will be trapped there for the entire season.”

“That will be a bit of a game change, it’ll shake things up,” John mused, half to himself. “I know Neil could pull it off, that humanization of our spaceship episode he wrote last year really increased our ratings.”

“And your brilliant cliffhanger sealed the deal, Yan,” Rose added loyally. “So the void we got pulled into at the end of last season, in this new story arc, it leads to an alternate dimension?” 

“That’s right!” Ianto confirmed. “It’s going to be fantastic! See, the fans have been shipping you and John’s characters all through the hiatus, Rose. Well, the writers too. Everyone is picking up the on-screen chemistry the two of you have. Neil mentioned he wants to do something reminiscent of ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ when Angel left and Spike eventually became Buffy’s love interest. His plan is that with Saxon’s character out of the picture and the three of you stranded in an alternate universe, John’s character will be forced to face his feelings for Rose. He’ll decide he has to change, become the hero she needs. Your character’s transformation will be the backbone of the story arc, John. We want to create a slow burn that ends with a ratings boosting snog between the two of you in the final episode.”

“Isn’t it a bit meta?” John asked, frowning again. “I mean, Rose and I are dating, the tabloids have been carrying on about it for months.”

“Art imitating life,” Ianto said with a laugh. “It really your own fault, John. The way you look at Rose, it’s obvious you’re in love with her. And Rose saves her special smile just for you. That episode where you tried to sacrifice yourself to stop her from being cyberized last series had the fangirls writing some intensely smutty fanfiction.”

Rose laughed and John scowled.

“Listen,” Ianto said. “You know that BBC America has been playing the first series of Alpha Epsilon on repeat in the US for months, and it’s been an instant hit over there. They want to simulcast the new series. The suits are even working out a break in filming for you two and Jack to fly out to Comic Con in San Diego to promote the show.”

“Wow!” Rose said, raising her eyebrows. “That’s news.”

“Do you mind, love?” John queried. “Does it feel a bit too much like we’re capitalizing on our private life?”

“I can offer you both more money,” Ianto added quickly, before Rose could respond. “You two can split what we had planned to pay Saxon above and beyond what you’re already getting.”

“Could you make it a three-way split between us and Jack?” Rose asked, glancing at John to be sure he was okay with it. He smiled and nodded.

“No problem,” Ianto replied. “John, is that okay with you?”

“One stipulation,” John said. “Can we make it three onscreen kisses, spread out through the series? If we’re going to play up the chemistry let’s do it properly.” He smirked at Rose, who giggled.

“Jack should get to kiss us both too,” she said. “He’s been lobbying for it since John got to kiss the tree lady in the space platform episode.”

“Don’t encourage him,” John admonished. 

“You have to admit, it would be good for the ratings,” Ianto explained. “That omnisexual thing his character has going is not just good for comic relief, you know. The fanfiction writers have a whole subgenre of smut that is about the three of you.”

“I think you’ll find that Jack is the one writing it,” John deadpanned. “Using a dozen different _nom de plumes_.”

“Tell Neil and the rest of the writers we’re onboard,” Rose said, when the oven timer dinged. “We’re going to eat a very overdue tea, and get some sleep. See you in ten days, Ianto.”

“Right where you left me, hunched over my word processor,” Ianto replied with way too much good cheer for this early in the morning.

“Good night, Ianto,” John said. “It sounds like you’ve got a fantastic series plotted out for us.”

“We’ll have the first scripts for you in about six days,” the Welshman assured them. “Tomorrow I’ll give Saxon’s agent a call and let him know we won’t be needing him.” John ended the call, leaning back in his chair.

“I didn’t see that coming,” he said. “But I can’t say I’ll be sorry to see the back of Harold Saxon.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Rose said, carrying the shepherd’s pie to the table. “It will be lovely without him. I’m fairly certain he’s the one that fed the tabloids that story last year, the one that you got so upset about.”

“I’m _sure_ he was,” John said, grabbing her and pulling her into his lap once the pie was securely settled on the padded mat in the center of the table. “Hates my guts, him.”

“Cause you’re a much better actor,” Rose said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“No, love, he hates me because I pulled you when he failed.”

“If I remember correctly, _I_ pulled _you_ ,” she said. “If I’d waited for you to make the first move, I’d still be watching you pace back and forth in front of my trailer in Cardiff, trying to wear a groove in the pavement.”

“I was terrified you would be livid about all the rubbish the tabloids were spouting,” he reminded her. “I was afraid you’d never want to be seen with me again.”

“Got that wrong,” she teased. “For a genius, you can be pretty dumb sometimes. Always selling yourself short, you are. You sold _me_ short, too, when you thought I wouldn’t be interested in you. How you got it in your head that I wanted a ‘pretty boy’ instead of a dead sexy man of substance is beyond me.”

“You’re way out of my league,” he insisted. “Ask anybody.”

“Don’t need to,” she retorted, running her forefinger over his bottom lip. “I don’t care what anyone else says. I know what I want and all I want is you, John Noble. You’re well and truly stuck with me now, ‘cause I’m not giving you up for anything or anyone. Saxon did his best to break us up, and even after we were together, the creepy git kept hitting on me.”

“He _what_?” John scowled. “After we were _together_ together?” Rose nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“If you could see your face right now you’d know why,” she said, pressing her palm soothingly against his cheek. “I’ve been evading the unwanted attention of men since I was fifteen, John. Blokes in general think that pop princesses are an easy shag. Every arsehole who saw my come-hither routine in those music videos thought it was directed at them. I’ve lost count of the number of indecent propositions I’ve received over the years, most of them before I was twenty-one. I’ll admit that Harold Saxon was unusually persistent, and it was awkward since he was supposed to be my character’s love interest. He just seemed unable to take no for an answer. He had quite a tantrum when he found out that you and I were actually _together_ , together. The night you stayed late to feed Jack his lines in the reactor room scene, Saxon waited by my car and confronted me about my questionable taste in ‘playthings’.”

“He what?” John almost shouted. “Rose, did he--”

“Relax,” she ordered, trying to massage the tension out of his back and shoulder muscles. “It’s all water under the bridge now. I told him that you were not a plaything in any way, shape or form, but a true gentleman who would never foist your unwanted attentions on a woman who had repeatedly made it clear she was not interested.”

“I should hope so,” John fumed. “He’s not fit to wipe your shoes, much less make unwanted advances on you! How did he react to your refusal?”

“He indulged himself in an astonishingly venomous rant about you, and how my relationship with you would ruin my career. He was still shouting as I got in my car and drove off. Suki the security guard heard the entire thing. Saxon is lucky I have more self control than Mum. He was just asking for a damn good slap that night. The morning after he accosted me in the parking lot, Suki convinced me to tell Ianto about his behavior. Ianto, bless him, immediately told Saxon in no uncertain terms to stop harassing me, going so far to threaten to sack him if he stepped out of line again. For quite a while Saxon was on his best behavior. I honestly thought he’d got over it.”

“But he hadn’t, had he?” John prompted, recalling the way that snake-in-the-grass looked at her and the smug look that was always on his face whenever he did a love scene with Rose. The bastard was always asking for endless retakes of the kissing scenes.

“No,” Rose said, sighing. “A month or so before we wrapped up filming, the arsehole made another attempt to convince me I’d be happier if I was shagging him. He’d been drinking and he manhandled me a bit, pushed me up against my car and tried to snog me. The moron forgot all the self-defense training I’ve had so I can make Bridget’s fight scenes look like the real deal. He was on his back on the tarmac, curled around his boy parts and begging for mercy by the time Jack came to my rescue.”

“You should have told me about this,” John insisted, trying to be angry, but his lips were twitching at the mental image of Saxon groveling like a whipped cur at Rose’s feet. “Did Jack have the presence of mind to get a video of it?”

Rose laughed, cuddling against him. He cradled her close, justifiably proud of her independence but still upset that she’d kept him in the dark about Saxon’s behavior. He knew Rose could take care of herself, but he couldn’t help the protective instinct that rose up in him, a fierce possessiveness to defend the honor of the woman he loved. It might be the Neanderthal response, but his all-consuming desire to keep her safe apparently brought it out in him.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you about it,” she said, looking apologetic. “I was just afraid you’d over-react and punch him or something.”

“I would have,” he assured her. “He had no right--”

“Of course he didn’t,” she interrupted, soothingly. “Jack and I told Ianto all about it, and he told Saxon if it happened again he would be fired. I honestly think Ianto was thrilled that Neil gave him an excuse to dump the arsehole to the curb. So now we have an entire series ahead of us, Saxon free, and three onscreen kisses together to look forward to.”

“We have Ianto and Neil Gaiman to thank for that.”

“Don’t forget Suki,” Rose reminded him. “She’s the one who talked me into grassing on Harold the first time.”

“Remind me to send her flowers,” John said, grinning. 

“I think Ianto is right about our on-screen chemistry, though,” Rose said with a smile. “Jack says the way you look at me is sometimes is positively obscene. Especially when you look at my mouth,” she blushed. He loved her blushes, loved that he could make her blush. He gazed lovingly at the pretty pink flush of her bosom and cheeks as she squirmed a bit in his lap, her bottom pressing delightfully against his suddenly attentive cock.

“Jack actually said that?” he asked, his own ears turning red. “About me looking at your mouth?” Rose nodded. 

“He mentioned a scene in the episode with the undertaker when you pulled me away from the zombies. I re-watched it after he told me about it. He, um, has a point. We filmed it the day after I first gave you--”

“I remember,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. “Seared into my memory for all eternity, that is.” He frowned, thinking about it for a moment. “Damn it, Jack was right. I _was_ thinking of that when we were filming that scene. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, love. That dress you were wearing and the lipstick just made it even more difficult--” his eyes fluttered shut. “I’m so sorry, Rose.”

“Sorry for loving me, for wanting me?” she asked, shaking her head. “You never have to be sorry for that, John. I hope you’ll always look at me that way.”

“Oh, I will,” he assured her. “But maybe I’d better tone it down for the cameras.”

“We’ll see what the stage directions are when we get the new scripts,” she said, grinning at him. “Remember what Ianto said about art imitating life? They’re going to turn your character into a romantic lead. Maybe those kind of longing looks will be necessary. You’re going to have to sell the romance, you know. Don’t want to disappoint all those shippers, do we?”

“Heaven forbid,” he chuckled, squeezing her tight before he pushed her off his lap. “Come on, the food’s getting cold, and I’m starving!”

\------------------

The next morning, John woke before Rose. The sky was mostly overcast, and it looked like there was more than a chance of rain. He shivered, recalling that he’d shut off the heat the night before after just one cycle to warm the place up. He eased himself out of bed without disturbing Rose and pulled the duvet back up over her. He walked downstairs to turn the heat back on and filled the kettle.

While they’d been traveling, he’d gotten into the habit of making tea for them both so they could drink it in bed. He’d discovered that Rose liked sleeping in when she wasn’t working, and took it upon himself to pamper her. Sometimes he’d leave the hotel to seek out something for breakfast and coffee if they’d had a late night. He glanced out the windows, wondering if he could dash to the bakery the next street over to fetch some pastries and grimaced when he saw raindrops pattering against the glass. There was a rumble of thunder and almost instantly the pattering of raindrops turned into a downpour.

By the time he carried a tray with fruit, tea and toast up to the bedroom, Rose was sitting up in bed, her hair tousled and her eyelids at half mast.

“Somethin‘ smells good,” she murmured in a drowsy voice. He set the tray on the bed and handed her a mug of tea, one sugar and milk. Rose accepted it with a pleased hum and a smile. “You spoil me.”

“It’s all part of my cunning plan,” he assured her. “Donna bought raspberry and blueberry jam and the bread you like, the healthy stuff with the nuts and seeds.”

“Yum,” Rose said as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He thought she was talking about the food until he noticed the way she was looking at him. He wore only a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and Rose was eyeing his lean torso. “All that kayaking and swimming was a really good idea,” she murmured in a sultry voice as she stroked her fingers over his taut and well defined abs. “But you’re awfully tan for an Englishman. The authorities might revoke your citizenship.”

“You got a bit of sun too,” he replied, sliding an index finger over the tan line visible beneath the spaghetti strap of her nightgown. “It looks good on you.”

“We match,” she said complacently as he slid back into bed with her. He spread jam liberally on a piece of toast and handed it to her. Thunder rumbled loud enough to rattle the window panes.

“Does Jackie know we’re back yet?” he queried.

“She doesn’t,” Rose confessed with a cheeky grin. “I might have been a wee bit vague about when we were returning.”

“Good,” he replied, slathering more jam on a slice of toast for himself. “Let’s spend the entire day here. We’ve no check-out time, nowhere we have to be, and enough food to keep up our strength.”

“What kind of activity will require such culinary fortification?” she teased, her dark eyes dancing as she nibbled on her toast.

“I thought we’d pick up where we left off last night,” he said. “If you want.”

“Oh, I want,” she assured him. She abandoned her toast to sip her tea. “Thank you for breakfast in bed. You’re becoming rather domesticated, you know. I expected a lifelong bachelor like you to resent a woman buying him bed linens and wholegrain bread.”

“Oi!” he cried in mock outrage. “I’ll have you know I’m a longtime fan of wholegrain bread! Aunt Sarah Jane used to make me peanut butter and banana sandwiches on wholegrain bread when I was just a lad. Uncle Tom was a bit of a hippie, you know. They were both into health food, tofu and mung bean sprouts. It drove me mum half mad that they were vegetarians.”

“It’s difficult to believe Sylvia’s brother was a hippie. She’s so straight-laced,” Rose said, peeling a banana. She gave him half and he thanked her with a peck on the cheek.

“Grandad and Grandma didn’t raise her to be that way, I can tell you that. Uncle Tom was more like Grandad, not sure who Mum takes after. I know I can be a bit of a curmudgeon, but even I can’t--”

“You, a curmudgeon?” Rose interrupted with a smirk. “Now, I find that a bit difficult to believe!”

“Hush, you,” he admonished, nudging her with his shoulder. “Speaking of bad character traits, I can’t believe Saxon won’t be around this series to cast a pall over things.”

“I know, the parking lot at the studio will finally be safe from lurking douchebags,” Rose muttered. John nearly spewed tea all over the duvet. Rose giggled as he hastily grabbed a napkin.

“Warn me when you’re gonna say something like that,” he told her, chuckling.

“Sorry,” Rose apologised. “You know, I still don’t know how he got my mobile number. I certainly never gave it to him.”

“Is that why you changed your number?” he asked, frowning.

“It is. He was leaving messages all the time and texting me, got downright miffed when I stopped replying to all of them.”

“I bet he bribed the secretary Ianto had for the first part of series one to give it to him. Lynda with a Y, remember?”

“The sweet, single one who turned up pregnant when nobody even thought she was seeing anyone?”

“That’s the one.”

“She fancied you,” Rose teased. “Doted on every word that came out of your mouth.”

“She never did!” John argued, astonished by the mere suggestion. “She was young enough to be my daughter!”

“She fancied you something fierce, John,” Rose insisted. “And the next thing I knew she resigned and moved back to London. I assumed it was to be with the father of the baby, but she never spoke of it.”

“She was a shy little thing,” he said. “Didn’t strike me as the kind of girl to have a secret lover.”

“Sometimes it’s the shy, quiet ones that have the darkest secrets,” Rose said. “She was unusually quiet those last few weeks. She seemed sad, distracted.”

“Maybe the father of her baby left her in the lurch,” John said. “It happens all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame if he did, she was a nice girl,” Rose shook off her contemplation of the fate of poor Lynda and took another sip of tea. 

“Change of subject,” John announced, looking a bit nervous. “If you count our studio flats in Cardiff while we’re filming we have four flats between us. I was wondering if you might...if...well, I wondered if you would be interested in consolidating our living space.” He paused for a moment, taking in her shocked expression before rushing to rationalize his reasoning. “We’d save a fortune, and to be honest, I hate the thought of sleeping alone again.” 

“You’re asking me to move in with you?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Well, I could move in with you,” he said, anxiety welling up in him. Was it too soon for them to be cohabitating? Maybe she needed her privacy? “Whatever you want to do is fine, love. It was just a thought.”

“I’m renting month to month,” she mused. “You own this place. It makes more sense for me to move here.”

“You would do that?” he asked, hope rising in him.

“If that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay, it’s bloody fantastic!” he enthused, pulling her into an exuberant embrace that nearly toppled the tea tray. “I’ll help you pack!” 

Rose snogged him thoroughly and when they finally came up for air she met his gaze, a tremulous smile on her lips.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “I know it’s a big step, but I think we’re more than ready for it.”

“Can’t think of anything I want more,” he said with gentle intensity. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Rose Marion Tyler.”

“And you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Jonathan Wilfred Noble,” she assured him.

“Wait here!” he ordered, jumping off the bed to bolt down stairs. He returned quickly with one closed fist extended as he approached her. “Open your hand,” he requested, grinning like a loon.

Rose did as he asked, her palm beneath his fist. He lowered a beautiful brass key with a rose embossed on it. It was suspended on a sturdy chain she could wear around her neck if she wished.

“I had it made up a while ago. I heard about this guy who can emboss anything on a key, make it a work of art, really. I thought you needed a key to my place anyway. I kept forgetting to give it to you.”

“Oh, I adore it!” Rose whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “Who says you’re not romantic?”

“Everyone but you,” he murmured, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Please don’t cry, love.”

“They’re happy tears,” she explained, laughing. “Fucking _joyful_ tears, you daft thing. Girls do that sometimes, you know.” 

“So noted,” he replied, taking the chain and key out of her hand to fasten it around her neck. “It’s the sturdiest chain I could find that would fit.” The key nestled against her sternum, the metal cool against her warm flesh.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s perfect! I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“It means a lot to me, too,” he replied, trailing one finger over the brass key. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Rose. I want to hold you in my arms every night and wake up to see your beautiful face every morning.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” she teased. “Remember that when I move in with all my feminine fripperies.”

“There is plenty of room for them,” he assured her. “I don’t even use half the closet space. We’ll turn it into _our_ loft.”

“So are we going to get your chesterfield sofa reupholstered?” she queried with a grin. “Cause I know where to take it.”

“Of course we’re getting it reupholstered, if that’s what you want. I bought that sofa at a BBC property sale for my first flat. For a while it was the only piece of furniture I owned.”

“That explains a lot,” Rose said.

“I’ll have you know it was the sofa they used for the first Peter Wimsey series. The one with Ian Carmichael. It’s a piece of our national television heritage!”

“Wasn’t that series filmed in the seventies?” Rose queried, arching a brow.

“They don’t make furniture like that these days,” he insisted, pouting. Rose laughed at him and he scowled.

“It’s well constructed, I’ll grant you that. It’s also got character and it will look amazing when my guy is done with it. He’ll be able to match the leather to redo the parts where the stuffing is leaking out and keep the parts that are intact. He’s going to be thrilled to get his hands on it. He loves restoring beautifully crafted old furniture. He did those two chairs and the matching ottoman in the autumn paisley velvet you like so much at my place.”

“They would go nice with my sofa, I was thinking,” he said. “The living room needs more seating now it’s not going to be just me here all by myself. I know you like to entertain.”

“You’d let me bring my Edwardian chairs and ottoman here?”

“Course I would,” he insisted. “You can bring whatever you want and we’ll find a way to fit it in. It’ll be your home too, now. Our home. It should suit both of us, yeah?

“Yeah,” Rose breathed, another tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve you, but I’m so glad I convinced you to give us a go.”

“ _I’m_ so glad I met _you_ ,” he said, his blue eyes wide as he met her gaze, his fingers lacing themselves against hers and squeezing. “And I’m not sure what I did to deserve _you_ , love. I’ve never been as happy in my life as I’ve been ever since that first night we spent together in your trailer. Sometimes I wake up and think it was all just a dream, but there you are curled up beside me, and I know it’s no dream. I still have a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that I’m so bloody lucky to have you in my life!”

“That makes two of us,” she said with a tongue-touched smile.

He leaned in to kiss her, chasing that wickedly tempting tongue as snogged his Rose until they were both gasping for air. It was the start of a very satisfying day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Untempered Schism.   
> Beta'd by Develish1 and Caedmon.

“All of your small appliances are better than mine,” John insisted. “I’ve been tempted many times to slip your toaster into my overnight bag and take it home with me.”

“It’s perfect for bagels,” Rose teased. “That’s why you like it so much. You have a bagel addiction, John.”

“I’m not an addict,” he insisted as he dropped a large stack of unassembled packing boxes. “I’m a _snob_. A bagel _snob_.”

“ _My_ bagel snob,” she said, playfully bumping her shoulder against his. She tossed him the bag of packing tape and carried the boxes of wrapping paper into the kitchen. “Bring a half dozen of those boxes with you, please. We can assemble them as we go. Donna and Jack should be here soon.”

“You really think we can get this entire flat packed up by Saturday?” he queried doubtfully, grabbing the top bundle of boxes off the floor. He followed her into the kitchen of her flat.

“Sure,” Rose said with cheerful confidence. “The kitchen and the books we can easily do today, and with help, we might get my closet and the bathroom done too. Mum might want some of the furniture I’m not taking to yours for her flat. She helped me pick most of it out.”

“Well, she’s not getting her mitts on your chaise lounge,” he insisted with a sly grin. “Sentimental about that chaise, me.”

“Sentimental about the blowjobs you’ve gotten on it,” she retorted with a tongue-touched smile. “You want to put it in the bedroom?”

“There’s plenty of room for it by the bookcases,” he said. “You can bring the floor lamp you use for reading there now, too. What about nightstands? We’ll need two. The one I have is falling apart.”

“Mine are a bit girly,” Rose said, wrinkling her nose. “I was going through a Hollywood glam phase when I bought them. Not sure mirrored nightstands are a good match for your mahogany four poster bed.”

“Do you still like them?” he asked, taping together the bottom of an assembled box.

“I kind of do,” she said, hesitantly. “I don’t have to worry about coasters for drinks and I’ve got custom dividers in the drawers for all my stuff.”

“Then bring them,” he said, grinning. “They’re the right size, they provide lots of necessary storage, and you like them. Good enough for me. I was just thinking, your bookcases are a lot nicer and sturdier than mine. We should put yours downstairs and move my ones from Ikea upstairs. Also, I just realized the furniture on your balcony will fit nicely on mine. It will be a big improvement over the folding chairs I have out there now.”

“You’re sure?” Rose said, frowning. “I don’t want to crowd you out or anything.”

“Just being practical, me,” John said. “Since I paid cash for my loft, I didn’t have a lot of money left over to furnish it. I got the essentials, and splurged on a nice bed and entertainment center. That’s what single blokes do. You were renting, so you put your money into high-end new furniture and the restoration of vintage finds.”

“Don’t forget the 600 thread count Egyptian cotton bed linens,” she added with a grin as she wrapped a stack of dishes to put in the box John had just assembled. Her smile faded quickly, though, and she shook her head. “I just don’t want you to get rid of any of _your_ stuff to make room for mine. That was never my intention, John.”

“I love you, Rose,” he said simply, meeting her troubled gaze. “You’ve got excellent taste, but you also love my loft. I’m a very lucky man because now it’s going to be _our_ loft. It should be a joyful amalgamation of both of our tastes. I meant it when I said for you to bring whatever you want. We’ll make it all work. You’ll see.” 

Rose set another wrapped dish in the open box and dropped to her knees beside John who was sitting on the floor. He looked up in surprise when she took the packing tape out of his hand, tossed it aside and tackled him, knocking him onto the floor to snog him fiercely. John recovered from his initial shock and groaned, holding her against him as he engaged in a duel with her agile tongue. When she finally raised her head to gulp in a breath he chuckled, one hand squeezing her denim-clad bum. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but what prompted that?”

“You did,” she whispered, still a bit breathless, reaching up to brush her fingers over the key he’d given her. She’d not taken it off since he put it around her neck the previous morning. “Just by bein’ you. I’m so happy, John. You make me so happy.”

“You do the same for me,” he assured her.

“It’s so much better with two, isn’t it?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

“It is, Rose Tyler,” he said, before pressing his mouth to her for another intense snog.

Things were progressing rapidly in the direction of floor sex when the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat had the effect of a bucket of cold water on their amorous activities. They came up for air to seek the source of the sound. Rose groaned audibly when she saw Jackie Tyler standing in the doorway to the kitchen in her pyjamas and dressing gown, hands on her hips with a thunderous scowl on her face. If looks could kill they would both already be dead.

“Mum!” Rose squeaked, tugging down her shirt as she scrambled off John. “What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same question,” Jackie retorted. “I wasn’t expecting you until the weekend. I came over last night to clean the place up. It’s been sitting empty for months. It was late when I finished so I decided to stay over. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you certainly did,” John quipped, covering his anxiety about being caught dry humping Rose on her kitchen floor by her mother with an attempt at humor. “Surprise her, that is,” he added, losing confidence as Jackie stood there, glaring daggers at him. Rose swallowed hard and reached back underneath her shirt to refasten her bra. She was blushing furiously, but thankfully Jackie was too distracted by glaring at John to notice.

“When were you going to tell me you were moving in with him, Rose?” Jackie asked with icy disdain. “Before Saturday, I assume.”

“Um, yeah, of course I was. ” Rose replied hesitantly, trying to figure out how much of her conversation with John Jackie had overheard. “We only decided to do it yesterday, Mum. Thought we’d get a start on packing this morning. If I can clear everything out of here before we leave for Cardiff I’ll save a ton of money on rent.”

“We spend all our time together anyway,” John added, rising to his feet and wrapping one arm possessively around Rose’s waist. “So I suggested we consolidate and Rose said she wanted to move into my Loft.”

“Does Sylvia know about this?” Jackie asked. “Since Jack and Donna do, I assume--”

“We haven’t told my mum yet,” he interrupted. “Like Rose said, we just made the decision yesterday.”

“This isn’t what I wanted for you, Rose,” Jackie said, ignoring John as if he hadn’t even spoken. “Shacking up with a man who is nearly Pete’s age. I’d hoped while you two were traveling together you’d come to your senses.”

“I told you before we left, Mum,” Rose said, crossing her arms over her chest and directing a glare of her own at Jackie. “I’m not goin’ to change my mind about this and neither is John. We’re in love and we make each other happy, why can’t you just accept that?”

“The two of you just swan off for months, sendin’ me postcards from places I’ve never even heard of, and expect me to accept it?” Jackie snapped. “While you two were off scuba diving in Greece, I’m left stuck here in London, reading the tabloids about how my daughter is throwing away her life with some aging playboy with a taste for young girls!”

“That’s a lie,” John interrupted, surprising himself by the steadiness of his voice. “I’m no playboy, Jackie. And I’m certainly not playing fast and loose with Rose’s affections. Your daughter isn’t a girl, either, she’s a woman, fully grown. Wise beyond her years, Rose is, and she makes her own decisions.”

“And she’s standing right here,” Rose added with a huff.

“This is Jimmy Stone all over again,” Jackie insisted, bringing out the big guns. Rose inhaled sharply, her eyes widening in shock and fury.

“Don’t you _dare_ say that!” Rose shouted, clenching her hands into fists. “John is _nothing_ like Jimmy Stone! How dare you, Mum?”

“I’m just telling you what I see,” Jackie defended herself. “You meet an older bloke, become infatuated, throw yourself at him and then you’re walking away from your responsibilities to let him call the shots. I don’t hear from you for the better part of a year and the next thing I know you’re in hospital cause he beat the shit out of you and he’s run off to Amsterdam with some bird and the entire contents of your savings account!”

“That’s enough, Mum!” Rose said, her voice oddly calm in contrast to the fury in her eyes. 

“I’ll not have you livin‘ in sin with him!” Jackie cried, jabbing her forefinger at John. “He’s not even willin‘ to make an honest woman of you, Rose! Can’t you see you deserve better?”

“Of course she deserves better,” John snapped. “But Rose knows her own mind and she’s chosen me, Jackie. God knows I tried to talk her out of it, but she’s as stubborn as you are when she makes up her mind. Don’t you think I know I’m not good enough for her? I’ve heard it all; I’m too old, too ugly, I’m a right curmudgeon and the absolute worst match she could make. I read those tabloids, too, Jackie. What they don’t say is that I’d give my life for hers, that I’d do anything to make her happy, and I’ll love her till I draw my last breath. I honestly have no idea what she sees in me, but I love and respect her enough to accept that she knows her own mind. Oh, and just for the record, I’d marry your daughter in a heartbeat if she’d have me.” The silence was heavy as his words settled over them. Then Rose spoke.

“John?” Rose turned to him, eyes wide, her bottom lip quivering. “Do you mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll marry you tomorrow if that’s what you want. I told you I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Rose Tyler, and I meant it. I’d be over the moon if you would consent to be my wife.” 

“I will,” Rose gasped, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh John, of course I will!” She threw herself against him and he caught her up in his arms, lifting her off her feet in a celebratory hug. 

Jackie just stared at the two of them in shock, stunned by John’s impassioned speech and Rose’s joyful response to his proposal. She watched the two of them, exultant and giddy, lost in a world of their own. They were staring joyfully into one another’s eyes. Jackie remembered the night Pete asked her to marry him. He hadn’t been as eloquent as Rose’s John, but she recognized the sincerity of the actor’s words and the devotion in his expression. He looked at Rose like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. He had also just convinced her that he loved her daughter with his entire being. She already knew Rose loved him back. 

Pete had told her months ago that if John was the one she wanted, the smartest thing they could do would be to respect her choice and butt out. Pete liked John, liked that he was an intellectual match for their daughter. He wasn’t as concerned about the age gap, pointing out that Rose was very mature for her age. Jackie recalled Pete’s mother’s wrath when Pete had defied her wishes to marry her, and shuddered. She didn’t want to be as vindictive as Pete’s mum, and she certainly didn’t want to lose her only daughter, which she would if she opposed the inevitable. Rose and John were snogging again, and a tiny smile quirked on Jackie’s lips. If the grumpy Northern bloke could make her daughter this happy, who was she to judge?

“I guess we have a wedding to plan,” she announced. They both turned to stare at her, the astonishment on their faces was a perfect match. “And a lot of packing to do. I’ll just go get showered and dressed.” She beamed benevolently at them both and left them to it.

“That was weird,” John murmured, confused by his future mother-in-law’s complete turnabout. 

“Not really,” Rose said, favouring him with her cheshire cat grin. “You asked me to marry you with her standing right there. Beneath that tough exterior, mum is a romantic at heart. Dad and Tony already approve of you, she just needed to know you were in this for the long haul.”

“You told me Jimmy Stone roughed you up,” he said softly. “You never mentioned he beat you so bad you ended up in hospital.”

“That was before the self-defense lessons,” she said. “But he ended up in hospital too that night. I hit him over the head with a frying pan to get him to stop beating on me. Served him right for attacking a woman in her own kitchen. I gave him a proper concussion but the cops didn’t charge me cause it was obviously self defense. He was twice my size and drunk as a lord. I pressed charges against him for assault and battery and when word got out, two of his ex girlfriends testified at the trial that he’d battered them badly enough to put _them_ in the hospital as well. My lawyer helped them formally charge him, also. He got put away for eight years, total.”

“Good,” John said, his fists clenched. “I’m not a violent man, but if I had a time machine, I’d go back in time and make sure he never had the chance to lay a finger on you.”

“I know you would,” she said, resting her head against his chest. “Let’s get married before we return to Cardiff. We can elope to Gretna Green.”

“Really?’ he said, in surprise, hope shining in his blue eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want something bigger and fancier? I want you to have whatever kind of wedding you want, Rose.”

“All I want is you,” she reminded him. “We can sneak up to Scotland and tie the knot. I want Mum, Dad and Tony there, your family, and Jack can be your best man. Do you think Donna would be my matron of honor?”

“Of course she would,” John said, picking her up again to swing her around the kitchen. She squealed with laughter. Suddenly he stopped dead still, his eyes widening. “Oh!” He set her back on her feet and rummaged around in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. “I guess I should give you this, then.” He retrieved a small black velvet box and grinned at her. “Um, I ought to do it up proper.” He sank down on one knee, looking like a nervous teenager, fumbling to open the box. Inside was a perfect diamond in an ornate vintage setting. The central diamond was flanked by four smaller diamonds, two on each side.

“Oh, John!” she gasped, pressing one hand to her mouth, her eyes sparkling. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Grandad gave it to me,” he said. “It was my gran’s engagement ring and he thought you might like it... I took it to a jeweler to replace the back part of the band. It was worn almost through. He also gave it a good cleaning and sized it to fit you. I measured the ring you sometimes wear on that finger just to be sure.”

“I can’t believe--” Rose choked on a sob, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Oh John, you darling, daft man!”

“So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Rose Marion Tyler?” he asked, meeting her tearful gaze with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Rose Marion Noble,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “I like the sound of that. Of course I’ll marry you, John!”

“Fantastic!” he enthused, taking the ring out of the box and sliding onto her finger. “Family heirloom, that,” he murmured, admiring the ring on her finger. “I know how much you like old things.”

“I do,” she agreed, pulling him up to his feet. “You don’t know how much it means to me that Wilf wanted me to have this.”

“He adores you, Rose,” John said. “He told me Gran would have wanted you to have it, and she would. There are forty-six years of wedded bliss in that ring, now we get to continue the family tradition with it on your finger. I’ll do my best to make you as happy as Grandad made my Gran.”

“You will,” she assured him. “I know you will, cause you already have.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m just saying, Mum, that this whole ‘the bride can’t see the groom before she walks down the aisle’ is positively antediluvian,” Rose snapped from the back seat of Pete’s luxurious SUV. Donna put a calming hand on her forearm and flashed her a sympathetic roll of her eyes and a nod toward the front passenger seat where Jackie sat. Pete was wisely keeping his eyes on the road and his mouth firmly shut.

“It’s tradition!” Jackie insisted. “Are you so addicted to that man that you can’t bear to be out of sight for a few hours?”

“I’m not addicted to him, but if I was in his car instead of yours right now I wouldn’t be having this fucking ridiculous argument on my wedding day, Mum,” Rose muttered.

“Language,” Jackie intoned automatically. 

“Tony decided to go with Wilf, Sylvia, and Lee, remember?” Rose replied. “So I’ll swear as much as I like. If you can’t swear on your wedding day when your mother is driving you up the fucking wall, then what is the point of getting married at all?”

“I thought the point was to, um, get married,” Donna interrupted in a light, teasing tone. “Mind you, I never need an excuse to swear, particularly when my mother is getting on my nerves, which she does so very often. It’s worse now that I’m expecting. I’m going to apologise in advance to you, Rose, about my mum becoming your mother-in-law today. You are a very brave woman. I only hope being with John is worth the sacrifice you’re making on his behalf. _I_ certainly wouldn’t marry into my family!”

“Of course John is worth it,” Rose assured her matron of honor and soon-to-be sister-in-law. She grinned and nudged her, silently thanking her for diffusing the tension in the car by deftly changing the subject. “And you, Lee, and Wilf more than make up for Sylvia. Soon I’ll be an auntie, too. I can’t wait for that!”

“I’m glad I’m not showing yet.” Donna patted her flat abdomen. “If I carry mine the way Mum did I’ll be as big as a zeppelin by the sixth month.”

“You’re going to be lovely,” Rose insisted. “You already have that glow about you. Are you hoping for a ginger?”

“That would be nice. Dad came from a family of gingers. John takes after Mum’s side.”

Jackie muttered something rude under her breath from the front passenger seat as she studied the road map. Rose and Donna rolled their eyes in synch and then stifled giggles, choosing to ignore her.

“So, you got to see what John looked like at the tux fitting,” Rose said to Donna, still smiling. “How did he look in the blue paisley waistcoat?”

“You were right, it really brings out his eyes. Cleans up surprisingly well, my brother does.”

“At least he’s clean shaven now,” Jackie added, still fumbling with the map. “Thank God for small favours.”

“He had to shave for filming.” Rose tried to tamp down her irritation with her Mum. “‘Asher’ doesn’t have a beard. More’s the pity. I miss it.”

“I’m glad Ianto was on board for him to keep his longer hair this series,” Donna said. “That short cropped cut he wore for the first series made those ears of his look like satellite dishes.”

“Oi! I _love_ his ears!” Rose protested, giggling as she swatted playfully at Donna’s arm. “Sometimes I use them for handles.”

“ _Rose Marion Tyler_! TMI!” Jackie emitted a horrified gasp. Pete caught Rose’s eyes in the rear view mirror and shrugged apologetically, his lips twitching in a mostly futile attempt to stifle a grin.

“Never should have taught her those texting abbreviations,” Rose murmured under her breath.

“Leave her be, Jax,” Pete admonished quietly. “It’s her wedding day.”

“How was John doing when you saw him this morning?” Rose asked Donna, still shaking her head over her mother’s dirty mind. She was certainly not going to admit that her mind had been just as far in the gutter as her mother’s when she’d mentioned her favorite use for John’s ears, but of course it had been. “He sounded a bit frazzled when I spoke to him on the phone.”

“You called just as he was about to leave Mum’s place. She’d been fussing at him for the better part of an hour, so of course he was frazzled. Mum wanted him to wear Dad’s cufflinks, which is a lovely idea, really. They’re sapphire cabochons set in gold, so they’ll look lovely with the waistcoat. Of course, he forgot to pick them up last night in all the excitement. When he and Jack came by this morning to get them, she was in one of her moods. She harped on about everything from the venue to the lack of a ‘proper’ reception,” Donna explained, using air quotes and rolling her eyes again. “He was incredibly patient with her. At one point he was just staring over her head with this half-smile on his face. Obviously he was thinking about you. He only smiles like that when he thinks about you. It infuriated her no end.”

“Oh, that explains so much,” Rose laughed in relief. “I’m sure the minute he and Jack were safely on the road, he was able to relax.”

“I’m sure he was,” Donna agreed. “I never thought my brother would be so eager to be domesticated. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen any groom so excited about his own wedding.”

“I think you’ll find the wedding night is the carrot on the end of the stick for the groom, Donna,” Pete said, flashing her a sly smile in the rearview mirror. “Men will put up with a lot when there is a honeymoon to look forward to.”

“Some kind of honeymoon,” Jackie groused. “Who spends their honeymoon working at a comic book convention - in America of all places?”

“Hey, the BBC is footing the bill,” Pete retorted, with a grin. “They’re saving me a fortune! Actually, I owe you and John a big thank you, Rose. I never thought I’d get off this easy for your wedding.”

“Well, neither of us wanted a big affair,” Rose said, smiling at her Dad. “You know we wanted to be married three months ago, before we started filming again. I had no idea we’d have to wait 29 clear days after we submitted the M10 forms before we could get married. So much for Scotland being the destination for quickie weddings.”

“But of course, you still had to _drag_ us up to Scotland anyway,” Jackie grumbled. “You want to get married in Scotland, you’re going to have your honeymoon in California--” she muttered something under her breath and continued. “I suppose you’re planning to give birth to my first grandchild in New Zealand.”

“We were thinking Tanzania,” Rose deadpanned. “Or maybe the Republic of Kiribati. You know how much I love a beach. I’ve been doing some research on the birthing customs there. I could push the baby right out into the surf, Mum. They have a kind of medicine man with this catcher’s mitt thing and they’ll let John chew off the baby’s umbilical--”

“Oi! That’s enough of your smart-mouth sass, little madame!” Jackie interrupted as Pete finally lost it. His sudden laughter filled the car and it was instantly contagious. Soon they were all laughing, Jackie included. When the hilarity died down, Jackie shook her head, still smiling. “Damned if you aren’t starting to sound like him, Rose. That’s just the kind of thing I’d expect him to say. Was he always a smart arse, Donna?”

“Since birth, apparently.”

“He’s Wilfred Mott’s grandson, isn’t he?” Rose snickered. “What would you expect? You should hear the two of them winding Sylvia up. It’s a like watching a vaudeville routine!”

“And when she eventually blows her stack, they scurry out into the garden to play around with Granddad’s telescope like the two naughty little boys they both are,” Donna added, nudging Rose with her elbow. “Why do you think I know so much about Astronomy? If you think I’m staying in that house after Mum’s got her back up, you’re as crazy as that brother of mine!”

“Oh my God! John and I are _finally_ getting married, Donna!” Rose squealed, as if the reality of it had just hit her. She bounced a bit in her seat. “In a couple hours I’ll be Rose Marion Noble! I’m so happy!”

In the front seat, Pete reached out to take Jackie’s hand and squeezed it. They exchanged a glance that spoke the nonverbal language of shared memories and Jackie shook her head. 

“Seems like yesterday, don’t it, Pete?” Jackie said softly.

“It does,” he admitted. “I was so bloody nervous.”

“You couldn’t get my full name right,” she teased.

“You were shaking like a leaf,” he recalled fondly. “You were so beautiful that day, Jax. You still are, my beautiful bride. John and Rose will be very lucky if they’re as happy as we have been, and I think they’re going to be.”

“Aww,” Rose sighed. “Thanks Dad. I’m so glad you approve. It means the world to me and I know it means the world to John, too. Thanks for going to bat for us.”

“My pleasure,” Pete said. “He’s a fine bloke, your John, and he makes my little girl happy. That’s all I care about.”

“You are a soppy sod, Pete Tyler,” Jackie muttered, her voice thick with tears. “Always have been.” She was smiling.

\---------

Jack was making good time on the M6 when his cell phone rang. John picked it up and answered it.

“Jack is driving, this is John Noble speaking.”

Jack could hear the voice of Ealasaid, their wedding planner followed by John’s long-suffering sigh. He pushed a button on the dash to connect the call through the bluetooth speaker.

“I’ve got you on speaker now, Ealasaid,” Jack announced. “Can you repeat what you just said?”

“I said we’ve got a problem,” Ealasaid explained. “Someone has obviously leaked the news of your wedding today, John, and they know the venue. The hotel is surrounded by paparazzi.”

“Fucking Hell!” John muttered, sagging in his seat.

“The fucking will have to wait for tonight, and the scenery here is too green to be Hell,” Jack quipped with a wicked smirk. John rolled his eyes and groaned. “Okay, Ealasaid,” Jack continued calmly. “We go to plan B, right?”

“Correct,” she assured him. “I’m directing everyone I can reach to go directly to Bonshaw Tower. I can’t contact any of the Tylers by phone so I--”

“They’re on the M6 also, driving up from London, but they got a later start than we did,” John said. “My mother, brother-in-law, grandfather and Rose’s brother are coming up in my Mum’s car. Rose, Pete, Jackie and Donna are in Pete’s SUV.”

“Mobile reception is weak in a few areas the closer you get to the border,” Ealasaid explained. “So I’ll just keep trying.”

“So will I,” John assured her.

“My assistant Ainsley is going to drive out to Ian Docherty’s home to tell him about the change of venue,” Ealasaid continued. “The minister isn’t answering his mobile, but we’ve left messages for him on his mobile and landline. He’s notorious for not answering his phone and his housekeeper, Bill, has Tuesdays off.”

“Fantastic,” John muttered sarcastically. He was already sliding into curmudgeon mode. “The paparazzi are surrounding the hotel, and our celebrant has gone missing. We’re off to a fine start.” 

“It’s not a wedding without a hitch or two,” Ealasaid assured him. “Don’t worry, John, we’ll track Docherty down. Is there anyone else we need to reroute to the Tower?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Jack cut in, looking a bit guilty. “Sorry, this was supposed to be a surprise, John, but Neal and Ianto wanted to be here for your special day. I asked Pete to book them rooms at the hotel and they’ll be arriving together on the 11:26 train, Ealasaid.” Jack rattled off both their mobile numbers by heart and Ealasaid promised she would do her level best to reroute the two writers to Bonshaw Tower without tipping off the hovering paparazzi.

“I’ll be in touch,” Ealasaid promised, after she and Jack exchanged a few more bits of information. “Everything will be fine, John. We’ve got this all in hand.”

“Thank you, Ealasaid,” John said. “Sorry for the trouble.” The wedding planner laughed.

“It’s not your fault your show is such a hit.” She paused a beat. “Oh, well, maybe it _is_ , but trust me, we know how to deal with the paparazzi. I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet, just in case.”

“How do you think the bloody tabs got wind of it?” John demanded, once Ealasaid rang off and Jack had given their new destination to his satnav. Bonshaw Tower was only about 5 miles from the hotel.

“Don’t know,” Jack replied, shrugging. “You and Rose drove up to collect the marriage schedule from the registration office on Friday when we were filming the exteriors for the werewolf episode at Caerlaverock Castle. Maybe someone followed you.”

“Rose was wearing a ginger wig, and some kind of get-up that she and Gwen cobbled together. With the glasses, the platform shoes, outlandish clothes and makeup she had slathered on I almost didn’t recognize her myself!”

“Maybe they recognized _you_?”

“You didn’t see what Gwen dressed me up in, did you?” John asked with a grimace.Jack shook his head. “Promise you won’t laugh if I describe it?”

“Absolutely not,” Jack retorted, with a bark of laughter.

“Oi!” John growled, but he was fighting a grin. “Fine. Tight black denim skinny trousers, high-top lace up boots, an oxford shirt and braces, topped off with a tweed jacket, bow tie and a cowboy hat. Oh, and round tortoiseshell glasses.”

“Please tell me Rose took a picture of you!” Jack begged, laughing again.

“Gwen did,” he admitted, shuddering at the memory of it. “She posed the two of us in the dressing area of the costume van and took them with Rose’s mobile.”

“Maybe the tabs have hacked her mobile.”

“Could have done,” John sighed, slumping against the seat again as he pulled up Rose’s contact information on Jack’s mobile. “We even drove Gwen’s old car to Gretna Green so nobody would connect us with the show.” He tapped the contact number for Rose on the screen of his phone with one forefinger and held it up to his ear. She picked up on the second ring. “Rose!” He broke into a daft grin the instant he heard her voice. “Fantastic! Hello, love!”

Jack pressed the button to connect John’s phone to the car’s bluetooth. Rose’s delighted laugh filled the car.

“Hello there, handsome. Where are you?”

“Still on the M6, sweetheart,” Jack replied.

“She was talkin‘ to _me_ , Jack,” John shook his head, feigning a scowl at his friend.

“But she said, ‘Hello there, _handsome’_ ,” Jack teased. “Obviously she was addressing me.”

“Behave,” Rose admonished lightly. “John is very handsome. You’re more pretty, Jack, in an action hero kind of way.”

“Oh, I like that!” Jack said. “I’m an action hero who is just too pretty to die. No sane showrunner would think of killing me off. I’m ratings gold, especially when they let me take off my clothes! Remember last season when I was captured by the homicidal androids and I--”

“Jack,” John inserted with another shake of his head. “Time and place.”

“Right,” Jack said, nodding.

“Ealasaid called,” John announced. “The tabloid press and paparazzi have swarmed the hotel.”

“Fucking Hell!” Rose muttered, but she sounded more amused than angry. Jack snickered, and John grinned, realising that Rose had used the same swear he had earlier. “I forget,” Rose continued, oblivious. “Was the first fallback the lovely old tower that began with a B or something?”

“That’s right,” Jack said. “Plan B is Bonshaw Tower. “Pete already has the information programmed into his satnav.”

“Well, his satnav chose today to go all Hal 9000 on him,” Rose responded cheerfully. “We’re doing this with a map. Dad, the tabs and paps are on to us, we’re diverting to Bonshaw Tower.”

They heard a series of groans from the Tyler SUV and some background chatter.

“I’m so sorry about this, Rose,” John said, tensing up. “I hope this doesn’t ruin things for you.”

“Why would this ruin things for me?” Rose demanded in an incredulous voice. “We’re still going to be married, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he responded immediately. “Of course we are!”

“And I loved Bonshaw Tower! It’s like one of our locations, John! I’ll feel like a Celtic princess being swept off her feet by a Roman centurion.”

“That statue in the museum _did_ look like me, didn’t it?” he said, relaxing again.

“It certainly did. Oh, and I should warn you, the next fancy dress party we have to attend, you’re going as a Roman centurion, Mister,” Rose assured him in a sultry tone. He knew that tone of voice, and so did his cock. It twitched responsively but his sister’s snort of laughter pulled him roughly from the erotic fantasy that his mind had instantly started to weave.

“You don’t have the knees for it, Spaceman!” Donna shouted. “Centurions wear short skirts.”

“I _like_ your knees, John,” Rose said, ever loyal. “I’ll show you how much I like them tonight.” The sound of Donna making retching noises inspired a laugh from everyone then.

“I’ll see you soon, love.” 

“You’d better,” Rose demanded with a giggle. “I can’t wait,” she confessed softly, and he could hear the longing in her voice. He knew it matched the twitchy yearning he had just to squeeze her hand. It was like he was addicted to the touch of her skin against his. He’d slept badly last night without her in their bed. He’d had a nightmare about Rose calling off the wedding, and this morning was forced to endure his Mum’s rant about everything wedding related when he stopped by to pick up his Dad’s cufflinks. 

He’d almost forgotten what his life had been like before he met Rose. Until today, he hadn’t realised just how much she had been smoothing the jagged edges of his personality by just being there. Everyone kept telling him he was a changed man since Rose had come into his life, and he knew it was true. Just the sound of her voice over the phone had calmed and centred him in a way nothing else ever could. 

“I love you, Rose Marion Tyler,” he said in a low, urgent voice. His tongue caressing the words. “Gonna marry you, me. In just a couple hours.”

“I’m countin‘ on it,” Rose murmured. “I love you too, you know, Jonathan Wilfred Noble. You’re _really_ goin’ to be stuck with me now.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad,” he reassured her. “Bein‘ stuck with the most fantastic woman on the surface of this planet?”

“What can I say, I’ve always had a thing for Roman centurions with gorgeous knees.”

“She really loves you, John.” Jack laughed. “That’s the litmus test for true love right there. Any woman who could think your knees were gorgeous has to be clinically insane or madly in love with you.”

“I’m both!” Rose retorted, giggling. “But luckily for John I’m the _good_ kind of crazy.” 

The two lovebirds wound up their call so John could call Sylvia to tell her to divert to Bonshaw Tower. Predictably, his mum ranted at length about the last minute change in venue, but John was inured to it now. He tuned out Sylvia’s tirade and lost himself in the fantasy of unwrapping his bride from whatever feminine frippery she would be wearing in the privacy of their hotel room tonight. He was a lucky man, and he knew it. Rose was right. Nothing could ruin today. Absolutely nothing.

\----------------

“Calm down, John. Ealasaid said Pastor Docherty usually does his fishing along this stretch of the Sark,” Jack reassured his friend as John continued to mutter impatiently under his breath. “Bill told Ealasaid he walks from the manse, so he has to be around here somewhere,” Jack insisted as they trudged along the bank of the river. Jack was glad that the caretaker of Bonshaw Tower had loaned them each a pair of wellies, since the ground was quite muddy from the recent rains.

“I just want to know who grassed us out to the tabloids,” John grumbled. “If I find out who did, I swear I’ll--”

“It could have been anyone,” Jack interrupted patiently. “Probably someone we don’t even know. No one can leave the hotel without being followed at this point, so it’s up to us to round up the stray pastor and get him to the tower. Ainsley and Ealasaid are holding the fort at the hotel until we get you and Rose hitched. Once the deed is done you can walk right past them all hand in hand with Rose and into the hotel. You need to stop fussing about the tabloids, John. Take a page out of Rose’s book, will you? She took the entire thing in stride and didn’t let it get to her. Keeping one or two steps ahead of the tabs is like a game to her and she’s damn good at winning.”

“Fantastic, Rose is.” The furrows creasing his brow relaxed and he very nearly smiled. “She even suggested we pose for them after the ceremony outside the hotel, said it was easier to give them what they want than to keep ducking them.”

“She’s got a point. That’s why the tabloids love her so much. She’s their darling ‘cause she’s all smiles and poses for them if they ask politely, and they usually do. Once they get their photos, they tend leave her to it. Every time you glare at them, you give more credence to the grumpy bastard narrative and they’re more likely to write about how you aren’t fit to ‘shine her shoes.’”

“Rose says it’s better to humour them, too, but I don’t like it when--” John suddenly lurched sideways on a particularly slick spot on the riverbank. His arms pinwheeled as he skidded down the slope toward the water 

“Whoa, there!” Jack said, grabbing him and yanking him back upright before he could topple into the river. “Watch your step!”

“God damned Scottish mud!” John gasped. “Slick as glass, it is!” 

“It’s God’s own mud,” a voice with a thick Scottish brogue called out. “So I think he’s unlikely to damn it to the fires of Hell just because the mud has somehow offended you. Of course, it’s not really my place to judge any man’s conversations with his maker, but opening with a demand for damnation seems a bit presumptuous unless the two of you are on intimate terms.”

Jack and John looked up to see a thin older man almost half submerged in the river, his curly gray hair shining in the sun. He wore hip waders and an ancient fishing jacket over a black thermal henley.

“Pastor Docherty?” Jack called back.

“At your service,” The pastor called back with a sigh.

“Ealasaid from the Smith Hotel sent us to fetch you. You’re supposed to do a wedding at one. Have you forgotten about it?”

“Of course I haven’t!” Docherty responded with asperity. “What time is it, anyway?” 

“Half twelve,” John said, struggling to remain patient. “Only there’s been a bit of bother, Sir. The tabloids have got wind of the wedding and have swarmed the Smith Hotel, so we’re doing the ceremony at Bonshaw Tower instead. We’ve come to fetch you and take you there.” 

“The Noble-Tyler wedding,” the pastor said calmly, reeling in his line. “Ealasaid mentioned they’re both actors. In some kind of science fiction series, aren’t they?”

“That’s right. I’m--”

“I spoke to the bride myself.” Docherty turned to make his way to the bank. “She sounded like a sweet young thing, and obviously head over heels for her lad. Seems to think her groom makes the moon rise in the night sky.”

“She does,” Jack responded, smiling. “And I assure you that the groom feels the same way about her.”

“He ought to. Ealasaid told me she looks as lovely as she sounds. Her lad is a lucky man indeed. Any lass who can quote the more obscure poems of Bobby Burns in casual conversation is a pearl of great price.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Pastor Docherty.” John offered the older man a hand to help him up onto the bank. Once they were all on terra firma, Jack made the introductions. Docherty raised his bushy eyebrows at the mention of John’s last name.

“Oh, a relative of the groom, are ye?” he queried.

“I _am_ the groom,” John said, his blue eyes flashing. He met the pastor’s steely gaze and held it until the older man nodded. “And this is my best man, Jack Harkness. We’ll drive you back to the vicarage so you can change and then take you up to the tower. We’re a bit pressed for time--”

“Relax, lad,” Docherty interrupted. “You’re the groom and I’m the celebrant. Your English Rose won’t be marrying without the two of us. If you have your wedding clothes in the car, you can change at the vicarage. It’ll save time.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jack said, leading the way to his car. “But we left our wedding clothes back at the Tower.”

“You’ve picked up the marriage schedule, then, haven’t you?” Docherty asked. John nodded and patted his jacket pocket. 

“I’ve got it,” John assured him.

“It’s better to ask,” Docherty said. “I can’t tell you how many times I have to send couples back for--”

Jack stopped suddenly mid-stride, swearing colorfully beneath his breath before whirling around to face John and Docherty. “The damn paparazzi have found my car!” he swore in an anguished whisper. “Quick, turn round before they see us!” They ducked behind a tree and observed the small crowd that had gathered around Jack’s car. Two of the men had cameras, and a few of the rest were peering through the windows. Several were on their mobile phones, crowing over their find.

Docherty shook his head and led them back the way they had come, keeping the trees between them and the paparazzi.

“We’ll have to walk back to the manse,” he insisted. “I’ll call Bill to drive us up to the Tower. It’s her day off but she’ll take us.”

“You don’t have a car?” John asked.

“Nooo,” Docherty responded with a scowl. “It’s at the garage being repaired. A tree ran into it.”

“You mean that you ran the car into a tree,” Jack said.

“Nay, lad, I’m tellin’ ye the tree obviously instigated the entire thing,” Docherty insisted. “Moved like an ent, that bloody tree did. It was in the middle of a storm, you see--”

John sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Rose. 

\----------------

“Mum, I thought we agreed that I wanted the simple Scottish bouquet. It’s traditional. Besides, paying one hundred sixty pounds for a bouquet is ridiculous!”

“Wait until you see it, sweetheart,” Jackie coaxed. “Really, it’s so lovely. It’s going to be breathtaking framed by the ivory lace of your gown. You’ll love it, I promise!”

“I don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?” Rose muttered, looking into the mirror at the reflection of Donna, who was lacing her into her wedding gown. “You better not have changed anything else, Mum. I swear, you are driving me up the wall and bankrupting poor Dad. All I wanted was a small, simple--”

Rose’s phone rang. Her face lit up because it was John’s ringtone, the opening credits music from their show. She dove for the mobile, taking Donna with her.

“Hello!” she chirped, squeaking a bit as Donna yanked on the laces to nip in her waist.

“Are you okay?” John queried anxiously.

“‘M’fine,” Rose gasped. “Your sister is trussing me up like Mammy did Scarlett O’Hara. It’s a bride thing.”

“Okay...” Doubt and confusion were audible in his voice. “Well, I thought you should know that we’re running a bit late. We’ve found Pastor Docherty, but the tabloids have spotted and swarmed Jack’s car so we’re headed for the manse on foot for him to change out of his fishing gear. Since the pastor’s car was attacked by a tree, we’re hoping to get a lift back to the tower.”

“Attacked by a tree?”

“It’s evidently a pastor thing,” John replied with a long-suffering sigh. Rose laughed and John chuckled. “We’ll be there soon. I’ll keep you posted, love.”

“Don’t worry, I promise not to wander off. I’m not going anywhere without you,” she assured him. “Don’t fuss about the time, either. It’s going to take Donna a while to get me laced into this gown, and then a bit for me to learn how to breathe again.”

“It’ll be my job to take it off you tonight, yeah?” he prompted, and she could hear his wicked grin in his voice. 

“Oh, that’s the plan,” Rose assured him. “I’m countin’ on it.”

When John rang off, Rose put the phone down and explained that there would be a slight delay due to an attack tree and a swarm of paparazzi. Jackie groaned while Donna just laughed and tugged. Rose smiled, thinking about how fantastic it would be when John unlaced her gown in the privacy of their suite at the hotel.

\------------------------

This time it was the Pastor who stopped dead in his tracks and swore fluently under his breath. 

“They’re onto us, lads,” he murmured, his bushy eyebrows lowering as he gazed across the street at the manse. The front garden was filled with reporters. They quickly ducked back the way they came, not stopping until they were out of sight again.

“Okay,” Jack proposed, “Rose isn’t going to care what the pastor is wearing. I say let’s call Pete and have him pick us up here in Gretna.”

“I can borrow some clothes from Pastor McDonald, he’s about my size and there’s a back way into his manse so we won’t be seen,” Docherty said. “He’s not in the habit of locking his back door and he can even give us a lift out to the tower, if he’s in. It’s just a few blocks from here.”

“Lead on, then,” John said. “I know Rose won’t care if we get married by a pastor wearin‘ waders and smellin’ like fish, but Mum and Jackie will have a fit if you show up wearing these clothes.”

“The question you have to ask yourself is, will they have a fit anyway just because that’s what those two always do?” Jack asked. “Cause I think that they will, so what difference does it make?”

“I guess it doesn’t,” John admitted with a frown. “I just want Rose to have whatever she wants. Today of all days. She deserves the best, my Rose does.”

“And you’ll be givin’ her the best with an attitude like that,” Docherty approved, patting John on the back. “Too many men fail to appreciate the manifold blessings of an adoring wife. You’re a rare lad to appreciate the true worth of the woman you’re about to marry. So few do. 

“I know how blessed I was to have my Elaine for thirty-three years. She was the light of my life, Elaine was, and a saint to put up with me. Most wives are saints, you know. They make a house a home, and a meal a feast. The best ones love and support us through good times and bad. They bear and raise our children, and shape us into something resembling civilized beings. I find it ironic that there are those who still refer to them as the weaker sex. 

“Turn here, this will take us up the back way to David’s manse. I’ve known him since he was a wee thing, David McDonald. He’s a good man, and we wear the same size shoes.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Untempered Schism.   
> Beta'd by develish1 and tenroseforeverandever. Thank you, ladies!

Sylvia Noble was fussing over her father’s tie, trying to get it to lie straight.

“It’s fine, Sylvia,” he insisted.

“It’s crooked!” Sylvia snapped. “I obviously have no say in anything else to do with this wedding, but I’m going to make sure you look presentable for the wedding photos.”

“Don’t be like that, love. It’s not your wedding, it’s John and Rose’s. I don’t want you putting a damper on their happiness with your negativity. Can’t you just be happy for them for one day?”

“John is going to wake up one morning and rue this day, Dad, you mark my words. She’s far too young for him, and too much of a spoiled celebrity princess. I know high maintenance when I see it. Donna’s mentioned all the changes she’s already made to John’s loft. That’s her, wanting to bring it up to her ‘pop star’ standards, tossing John’s things in the bin.”

“Now _that_ is utter codswallop! You’ve complained for years about that Chesterfield sofa of John’s, saying he needed to throw it out and get a new one. _Rose_ knew how much he loved it so she had it reupholstered for him as an engagement present.”

“Oh, I know she’s got you convinced she’s Johnny’s soulmate, but why can’t you admit how she’s taken over that loft and changing everything to suit herself?”

“Because she hasn’t, Sylvia! I know for a fact that John asked Rose to bring every stick of furniture that she brought with her when she moved into the loft.”

“Of course he did, she’s got my poor boy brainwashed into thinking her ideas are his own. I hate to see him discarding all his things and replacing them with hers.”

“When did you become so attached to John’s rickety second-hand furniture? You’ve tormented him for years to replace some of that stuff. He’s _proud_ of the changes they’ve made _together_ in that loft and can’t stop going on about how fantastic the place is with all her things mingled with his own.”

“Like I said, he’s brainwashed.”

“Rose adores John, and he loves her. I’ve never seen John so happy in all his life!”

“He’s merely infatuated with her, mesmerised by her bottle blonde hair and flirtatious ways. You mark my words, when she gets tired of him that girl is going to break Johnny’s heart.” Wilf rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration.

“If you keep this up, you’re going to drive both of them out of our lives and I’m not going to stand for it.” Wilf stepped back, out of her reach and shook his head, frowning at his daughter. “Now, I’m going to check in on Donna and Rose. While I’m gone, why don’t you try to remember the manners your mother and I taught you. If you can’t think of something nice to say, then just don’t say anything at all.”

Sylvia stared after her departing father, stunned by his outburst. Obviously John’s little vixen had her father under her spell as well. Donna and Lee seemed just as blind to the little chit’s flaws too, since both sang her praises. Apparently she was the only one in the entire family who saw Rose Tyler for what she really was.

“He’s got a point, Mother,” John’s voice echoed in the long, narrow corridor of the tower. Sylvia startled and turned around to see her son and Jack Harkness, accompanied by a man she assumed to be the Pastor they’d been sent to fetch.

“Oh, you startled me!” she cried, pressing one hand to her chest. “I didn’t hear you come in!”

“No, you were too busy vilifying my bride to hear us.” Sylvia recognised the expression on his face. He was furious with her. Well, maybe it was better that they have it out now instead of later.

“She’s not good enough for you, Johnny,” she asserted. “Why are you insisting on rushing this?”

“We’re _not_ rushing it!” he thundered. “And for the record, _I’m_ the one who isn’t good enough for _her_ , but for reasons known only to Rose, I’m what she wants. If you think I’ll call off this wedding on your say-so, Mother, you’ve not been paying attention. Everyone loves Rose but you, and all this vitriol will stop right here and now!” John strode toward his mother until he was right in front of her. “What would Dad think of the way you’re acting right now?” he demanded. Sylvia inhaled sharply and opened her mouth to respond, but before she could utter a word, all the fight drained out of her.

“Oh, Johnny, he’d be so disappointed in me,” Sylvia whispered, her face crumpling up as if she were about to cry. “ _I_ was the one who wasn’t good enough for _him_ , you know, according to Geoff’s mother, and God help me, right now I sound just like her.”

“I know it’s been hard for you. Dad died so suddenly, and I know you feel like Donna and I are both leaving you behind by getting married, but you’re actually pushing us away with your anger and resentment. Dad would be the first one to tell you that you’ve got the wrong end of the stick about Rose. He would have loved her, just the way Grandad and Donna and Lee do. What was it Dad used to always say about your stubborn streak?”

“That if three people tell you that you’re dead, you should at least consider laying down,” Sylvia responded, a half smile trembling on her lips.

“That’s the one!” John said, triumphantly, smiling. “I’m askin’ you to lay down for a moment and listen to me, Mum. What I feel for Rose is not infatuation. I swear to you that it isn’t. I’ve been infatuated before, of course I have, and I know you’ll not be letting me forget Romana or Jabe any time soon. The thing is, I’m plenty old enough to know what infatuation feels like and now I’m also able to recognise love. What I feel for Rose is _love_ , Mum. She completes me, makes me a better man, and I’ve never felt this way about any other woman. She’s my intellectual equal, the kindest, strongest and most gifted woman I’ve ever met. I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her because by some miracle she wants to do the same with me. I never believed in soulmates until I met Rose, but I believe in them now. Grandad’s right, you know.”

“About what?” Sylvia asked, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“You have been nagging me for decades about replacing that old Chesterfield sofa of mine.” He grinned. “Well, Rose knows this bloke who rehabbed some of her antique finds and she had him do my sofa. You should see it, Mum. You can’t tell the new leather from the original, and it’s so much more comfortable, too. Rose knew how attached I was to that battered old thing, so she made it whole again for me. You haven’t seen the loft since she moved in, but you should know that Rose wouldn’t let me get rid of anything of mine that I wanted to keep, she just brought what I asked her to bring from her flat. The loft looks fantastic, now, like a real home. We’re having a dinner party when we get back from Comic Con to show the place off to everyone. We’d both love it if you would come. Rose is fantastic, Mum, and I’m going to make her my wife. If you give her half a chance you’ll see how fantastic she is. All I’m asking is for you to be happy for me today.”

“I will,” Sylvia assured him, half laughing and half bursting into tears. “You’re so like your Dad, Johnny.”

“Thank you, Mum.” John pulled his mother against him, wrapping his arms around her. She sighed and leaned into him, resting one cheek against his jumper, her tears soaking into the wool. “I’d like to think I’m like him in my better moments.” John murmured.

“Your grandad says he’ll be with us in spirit today, watching over the wedding. He’d be so proud of you, son, he was always so proud.”

“I know,” John said with a wistful smile. “I miss him, Mum.”

“I do too,” Sylvia said, reaching up to press her palm against John’s cheek. “Now Rose is waiting, so you and Jack better get dressed.”

“We will,” John assured her with a manic smile. “Can’t marry the love of my life in me old jeans and jumper, now can I?”

“You look like a navvy in that battered old jacket,” Sylvia scolded, but she was smiling through her tears.

“Oi! It’s me lucky jacket!” he insisted, sounding so much like his father. Sylvia saw the merriment in his eyes and realised how wrong she had been. John _was_ in love with Rose Tyler. She’d seen that look on Geoffrey’s face too often to mistake it for something else. He really loved the girl. She sighed and shook her head at the antics of her oldest child.

“Go on,” she shooed him toward the changing room. “Get dressed before the paparazzi swoop down on us like a flock of wild geese. You can’t keep Rose cooling her heels all day.”

“Right!” He kissed her forehead, then whirled around to call to Jack. “Come on, Jack! Time’s a wastin’!”

\----------------------

Rose stood alone at the top of the stairs that descended into the vault room, awaiting her cue. Pete was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs to escort her to John. She heard with harp begin playing the wedding march. With the ethereal strains of the Celtic harp wafting up the ancient stone staircase, Rose could easily imagine she’d traveled back in time. She grinned. This was it, and John was waiting for her. She carefully gathered the skirt of her dress and petticoats in one hand while clutching the wooden rail with her other, and began her careful descent.

John stood in front of the pastor with Jack at this side, watching as his bride came into view. He sucked in his breath when she emerged from the narrow stairwell. He’d known that Gwen had made Rose’s gown, but what he hadn’t known until now was that it was an ivory version of the burgundy and black gown she’d worn for last season’s time travel episode. It exposed her shoulders, nipped in her waist and made her look more gorgeous than ever.

“Blimey!” he breathed.

“You’re one lucky bastard, John Noble,” Jack whispered in his ear.

Rose took Pete’s arm and slowly made her way up the red carpet toward John. She met his gaze, radiating love and excitement, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. In the warm amber glow of the low hanging chandelier, his Rose transformed into a glittering golden Goddess. The tiny ivory pearls sewn into her gown and veil reflected the light and bounced it about like shimmering motes of copper and gold. John stopped breathing, staring at her in awe.

“Hey there, handsome,” she whispered, once Pete had surrendered her to his care.

“Blimey, Rose, you look fantastic!” he enthused, louder than he’d intended. His voice echoed in the vaulted chamber and inspired a burst of laughter from their family and friends. Rose giggled and squeezed his hand. 

“You look pretty fantastic yourself.” She raked him with an approving gaze. 

“Clean up well, me,” he agreed, unable to tear his gaze from her. More laughter came from their family and friends. 

Rose turned to survey the small crowd that were standing in a semi-circle around them, noting that even Sylvia was smiling. When she saw Ianto and Neil she gasped. 

“Oi! What are the two of you doing here?” she demanded with a delighted Cheshire cat grin. “I thought you were in Cardiff, slaving away on the two part season finale!”

“We worked on it on the the ride up,” Neil said with a puckish grin. “We do some of our best writing on the train, don’t we, Yan?”

“We do,” Ianto agreed. “We thought we’d surprise you.”

“Well, it’s a lovely surprise!”

“If we could be getting on with the handfasting?” Pastor Docherty prompted in a bemused brogue.

“Of course,” Rose blushed slightly as she turned back to face John. As the pastor began the ceremony, John couldn’t stop staring in awe at his beautiful bride. It was like he could suddenly feel the turn of the Earth beneath his feet, sense the way it was hurling itself around the sun. For a moment he felt dizzy and he squeezed Rose’s hand to ground himself. He was positive that she was the only thing tethering him to the surface of this spinning blue and green marble of a planet. Without her he’d be lost.

“Who gives this woman to be wed?” Docherty queried. 

Pete and Jackie stepped forward and chorused their response together. “We consent and gladly give our daughter, Rose Marion Tyler in marriage to Jonathan Wilfred Noble.”

“And who gives this man to be wed?” 

Wilf, Donna, and Sylvia stepped forward.“We consent and gladly give Jonathan Wilfred Noble in marriage to Rose Marion Tyler.” the three intoned together.

“I believe that the bride and groom have opted for an exchange of rings?” the vicar prompted. This was Tony’s big moment. The four year-old scurried forward to offer up a little heart shaped tartan pillow where the rings were anchored with matching bows. John accepted the pillow with a wink and a grin, as Rose crouched down to hug the child and kiss her little brother’s cheek before straightening his tie. He looked so adorable wearing a miniature version of the suits and waistcoats that John, Jack, and Pete wore.

“Thank you, Tony,” Rose said.

“Is John my brother yet?” her brother asked, bouncing up and down on his toes in excitement.

“Almost. It won’t be long now.”

“You’re doing real good so far, John,” the child announced in a stage whisper. “Just don’t forget to kiss her at the end.”

“Oh, I won’t, lad,” John assured him as more laughter filled the vaulted room. He reached out to ruffle the boy’s ginger hair affectionately. Tony grinned and scampered back to his parents. Pete picked him up so he could get a better view of the exchange of rings.

When John took Rose’s hand again to recite his vows, she almost swooned. Her corset was snug, but it was the look in John’s eyes that made her dizzy and breathless.

“Oh, I do love you so much, John!” she gasped. He smiled, the tender, adoring smile he only ever favoured her with when she’d done or said something unusually brilliant. 

“And I love you too, so very much.” He took Rose’s left hand in his and raised the ring. 

“With this ring I thee wed, Rose Marion Tyler,” he continued, smoothly reciting his vows and projecting so his voice filled the chamber. Rose had taken off her engagement ring so her wedding ring would be closer to her heart, as tradition dictated. John slid the narrow diamond-studded band into place, and he gently caressed her knuckles with his thumb as he continued speaking. “I shall joyfully offer my forever to thee, and I vow to love, cherish, and protect thee all the days of our lives. I will worship thee with my body and plight my troth only unto thee so long as we both shall live.”

John accepted Rose’s engagement ring and slid it against her wedding band, grinning broadly as the rings nestled together on her finger, catching and refracting the light from the chandelier that hung above them.

“That’s done, then,” John murmured proudly. 

Rose giggled, took John’s ring from the pillow and slid it slowly onto his finger, looking up into his eyes as she spoke her vows.“With this ring I thee wed, Jonathan Wilfred Noble. This ring will symbolize my promise to be thy succor and support, through sickness and in health, and in good times and bad. I shall joyfully offer my forever to thee, and I vow to love, cherish, and protect thee all the days of our lives. I will worship thee with my body and plight my troth only unto thee so long as we both shall live.”

“If the best man would produce the handfasting tie,” the Pastor prompted. Jack pulled a length of braided and embroidered gold, green and red grosgrain ribbon and handed it to the Pastor. “John and Rose have chosen to be joined in a Celtic handfasting. It’s a marital rite that dates back to pre-Christian times. The tie will be wound around their wrists, joining them together, body, mind and soul. It’s symbolic of the shared path they will embark upon together from here forward. In ancient times handfasting would only bind a couple for a year and day, and then they would both have the option of making it permanent or dissolving the union. Any child conceived during that period would would be considered legitimate heirs to both parents and embraced by both families even if the marriage was not made permanent. 

“As you heard, John and Rose have exchanged vows to indicate they will be parted only by death, a courageous and optimistic decision. I charge all of you gathered here today to witness this marriage with the responsibility of giving them all your best wishes and support in this endeavor. A marriage is not just the joining of two individuals, but a merging of two families. I ask that you all support John and Rose in this most ancient and sacred rite, joining together, both now and in the future. Will you honor their pledge to one another?” Docherty met Sylvia’s gaze and held it as she responded with the rest of the witnesses. 

“We will.”

The pastor gave Sylvia a slight nod of approval, and a smile that made him look a full decade younger.

“The broom, please,” he intoned, looking at Donna, who had carried the broom up the aisle. It was a hand-crafted wedding broom, a work of art, festooned with ribbons to match the ones wrapped around Rose and John’s wrists and decorated with a small spray of flowers to match the bridal bouquet. Donna placed it in the pastor’s outstretched hand and he bent to lay it on the floor between the bound couple and the gathered witnesses. Rose and John turned as one to face their families and friends, hands still laced together.

“The broom has been a symbol of marriage for centuries,” Docherty explained. “The handle represents the masculine and the bristles evoke the feminine. When they are joined together, the result is a partnership that’s greater than the sum of each individual component. The broom is also a symbol of fertility and extends a blessing upon the union of the joined couple for it to be fruitful in the fullness of time. Our pagan ancestors were a randy lot, in case you didn’t know.”

This comment was met with laughter. Rose blushed and John allowed himself a moment to fantasize about Rose, pregnant with their child. He was astonished by how much he wanted that. He blinked, squeezing her hand, knowing the tips of his ears were just as flushed as her cheeks.

Docherty turned to John and nodded encouragingly, and John’s eyes widened for a moment before he nodded back.

“Um,”John was surprised to hear how husky his voice had gone. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Rose, Neil and Ianto have given us a very special wedding gift, one that only they could give, so before we jump the broom, I’m going to share it with you.”

Rose smiled expectantly and glanced over at the writers. “Okay?”

John looked at their mingled family, united in their support of their marriage. Neil and Ianto were both grinning and nodding their heads encouragingly. 

“Asher, the character I play on our show, is an alien,” John said. “And some of you will recall that last series it was revealed all of Asher’s people have a name, given to them at birth. It’s a unique, multisyllabic name of deep meaning, evoking complex ancestral lineage and the parents’ hope for their child’s future. The only person Asher’s people will ever share their complete name with is their husband or wife. The people of Alpha Epsilon are telepathic so they bond with their mates, body, mind, and soul. There are no secrets between them. Ianto and Neil’s wedding gift to us is Asher’s birth name. Since they created Asher, they are essentially his parents, so only the four of us will ever know Asher’s true name. I’m going to ask the harpist to play a short song while I whisper it into Rose’s ear and then we can continue with the ceremony.”

When the music began, John swept Rose up against him and guided her into a slow dance. She rested her head against his chest with a sigh of contentment.

“What a lovely gesture,” Rose whispered. “We have the most amazing friends, don’t we?”

“We do,” he agreed. “So are you ready to hear Asher’s secret name?”

“I am,.” she lifted her head to meet his gaze.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured. Rose complied and he lowered his lips to her ear. They were still dancing in a tight little circle to avoid tripping over the handfasting broom.

“Ashervistamontevishiaryscepterlillytrollamoriaschumen,” John recited in a low, sexy voice, the syllables rolling of his tongue like rough silk. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear and Rose shivered, her body warm and snug against his. John lingered with his mouth against her ear, inhaling the achingly familiar scent of her. 

“John,” Rose murmured, opening her eyes to gaze up into his. “I’m so glad I met you!”

“I love you, too,” he replied, his mouth quirking up into a goofy grin. Exchanging those phrases had become a kind of code with them, an inside joke of sorts. Rose favoured him with a tongue-touched smirk as she reached up to cup both her hands over his ears, tugging him down into a surprisingly passionate kiss that lasted much longer than decorum dictated. Tony cheered loudly. No one, not even Sylvia or Jackie, begrudged them the intensity of that kiss. Rose and John were still floating together in their own bubble of joy and triumph as the harpist finished the song. When they moved back into position, standing behind the broom and facing their guests, the pastor completed the ceremony. 

“So, by the power vested in me by Almighty God and the Presbyterian Church of Scotland, I now pronounce John and Rose husband and wife. Will you all please assist me as I congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Wilfred Noble on their matrimonial union?” Docherty applauded and the rest joined in. Jack wolf whistled, Neil and Ianto raised fists over their heads and shouted huzzah while Wilf was doing a dorky little victory dance, much to Donna and Lee’s delight and Sylvia’s mortification. 

“What God has bound together here today, let no man tear asunder.”

Tony cheered again, clapping his little hands. 

“Now jump the broom, already!” the pastor commanded with a smile. John met Rose’s adoring gaze as they hopped over the broom. Several people took pictures or videos of their jump. He loved that the ribbon was physically tying her wrist to his and he clasped her hand tightly in his as the cameras continued to flash and everyone in the room cheered. He was momentarily blinded by the sudden flashes of light, but he recovered quickly. He lifted Rose up into his arms and swung her about in a giddy, victorious circle, laughing while the others applauded. When he put her back on her feet, he immediately bent her back over his arm, dipping her until her veil puddled on the polished floor. Jack whooped and whistled when John pulled her back up onto her toes to snog her halfway into a swoon.

“Save something for the wedding night, John!” Jack called. John raised his head to glare at his best friend and Rose giggled like a teenager.

“We need everyone but the bride, groom, best man and matron of honor to proceed upstairs now to primp for the professional photographs,” Docherty announced. “As soon as we’ve attended to the signing of the bridal registry and the marriage schedule, we’ll be right up to join you. Champagne and hors d’oeuvres will be served in the corridor at the top of the stairs. There are also cachets there of birdseed to toss at the bride and groom once they leave the tower, since people will always throw something at weddings and birdseed is better than most of the alternatives. Don’t forget to sign the visitor’s book before you leave. Once all the photos have been taken, we’ll head back to the Smith Hotel for the the reception, followed by dinner. The bride and groom will be riding to the hotel in their horse-drawn carriage and you can all follow in your own vehicles.”

As the guests headed up the stairs, Docherty approached John with the wedding schedule in hand.

“We’ve a wee bit of a problem, but nothing to be concerned about, lad,” the pastor mentioned quietly.

“Nothing you say right now can possibly upset me,” John assured him, Rose’s hand still entwined with his own. “We’re married! Nothing else matters!”

“Well, that’s the problem,” the pastor said with a grimace. “You’re not actually married. Not yet, anyway.”

“What?” Jack said.

“We just watched you marry them, Sunshine,” Donna piped up. “How can they not be married?”

“The marriage schedule says you’re to be married at the Smith Hotel, so that’s where the official ceremony has to take place for the wedding to be legal. It’s just a stupid technicality, so before the reception I’m going to have to do a quick ceremony at the hotel.”

“You’re saying we’ve got to get married again?” Rose asked, biting her bottom lip nervously.

“Legally, you’re not married yet,” Docherty explained. “You won’t be until I perform a quick ceremony at the Smith Hotel. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and I’m not charging you extra for the second ceremony. It will take just a few minutes. No one else needs to know anything about this if you like.”

“You knew it before the wedding.” John frowned, still looking a bit stunned. “Why didn’t you say something then?”

“You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” Docherty responded with a question of his own. “Rose got her magical ceremony here in the Tower and everything was perfect. Does having to do it again take anything away from what you’ve already said to one another?”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Rose leaned into John. “It will be our little secret, just the five of us. A conspiracy!”

“I agree, it’s best we keep this from from Jackie and Mum,” Donna said, shaking her head. “There is no sense giving either of them something to gripe about at this point. We can tell them about it later if you like.”

“Isn’t it a bit dishonest?” John asked. “Letting them think we’re married when we aren’t?”

“Think of it as getting a head start on the festivities,” Docherty suggested. “You’ll be married before the reception, after all.”

“It’s just a bit wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey,” Jack added, using a popular quote from the time travel episode of their show. “What’s the difference what time you get married so long as you get the job done?”

“Jack’s right!” Donna agreed. “So let’s get the photos done, down a glass or two of champagne, and haul arse back to the hotel.”

“An excellent plan,” Docherty assured them. “Are we in agreement?”

“Yeah.” John still looked a bit shell shocked. “Of course. Okay.”

“Hey, I get to marry you twice.” Rose leaned against John’s shoulder and looked up at him with the gamin grin he loved so much. “What’s not to love about that?”

\---------------------

The ride back to the hotel was lovely, Rose decided. She snuggled against John’s chest and inhaled the clean scent of him. John pressed a chaste kiss to her temple, his arm wrapped around her. Rose had tied their handfasting ribbon around her waist, the ends trailing from a loose bow nestled against the small of her back. She was sniffing her bouquet, grudgingly admitting that the oversized pink floral extravagance had looked good against the ivory of her gown.

“They can preserve this,” Rose explained. “Mum said they’ll do something to keep it looking like new. I saw some samples. It’s amazing!”

“I thought you were supposed to throw it,” John said.

“There is no one to catch it but your mum,” Rose said. “And to be honest, it’s just easier to let mum have her way with these things.”

“So does that mean I don’t get to throw your garter?” John asked.

“Can if you like,” Rose said with a sly smile. “I’m wearing two. One to throw and one for you to keep.”

“I shall treasure it always,” he assured her. “Is it blue?”

“No, it’s ivory,” Rose said. “My knickers are blue.”

“Tease,” he admonished her. 

“Every horse needs a carrot to follow. My French knickers are your carrot, John.”

“You’re my carrot,” he assured her. “I’d follow you to an alternate dimension, Rose. I would, with or without your knickers as an incentive. But explain why, if they’re carrot knickers, they aren’t orange?” 

Rose laughed. “Tradition calls for something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue, you daft thing. My engagement ring is old, my dress is new, the pearl earrings I’m wearing are on loan from Mum. She wore them the day she married my Dad, and my knickers are blue. See, all bases covered! What about you?”

“Does it apply to grooms as well?” he queried, feigning ignorance.

Rose nudged him. “Of course it does.”.

“Well, my socks are old, my waistcoat, suit and wedding ring are new. My cufflinks are both borrowed _and_ blue! It looks like we’ve averted marital disaster, then.”

“Well, we will have, once we’re actually married. I insist that you make an honest woman of me before the reception,” Rose teased. “I’m not accepting wedding presents under false pretenses.”

“The instant the good parson arrives we’ll whisk him and Donna up to Jack’s room so he can perform his ceremonial magic,” John assured her. “He’s hitching a ride with Pete and Jackie and they’re right behind us. You should know that I’ll marry you as often as you like. I really loved putting that ring on your finger and the kissing was fantastic. I can’t wait to get you out of that dress you’re wearing. Like opening presents, me.”

“Oh my God!” Rose exclaimed. For a moment John thought he had scandalized his new bride (or almost bride) as her eyes widened. She pointed toward the front of the carriage. John tore his gaze from Rose and saw the huge crowd that had gathered in front of their hotel. John shook his head and laughed out loud, tugging her more snugly against him.

“They’ve camped out here for hours. You’ve got to give them credit for stubborn persistence. Oh, look! Ealasaid rolled out the red carpet. Let’s give them something to write about, Rose.”

“You really don’t mind?” she twisted one of the artfully dangling ringlets of her hair around her forefinger.

“We’re here together on our wedding day because of all those stories they wrote about us,” he reminded her with a grin. “I should thank them!”

“Should I try to take you round the rear, Gov’nur?” The carriage driver asked John, gesturing with his free hand at the paparazzi.

“Will they spook the horses?” John asked, trying not to laugh again.

“Nothin‘ spooks my bonny girls, Gov’nur.” The driver offered him with a proud grin. “Deoiridh has alwa’s been a wee calm lass. Dozes off with a piper playin’ right next ta her, she does. My Daisy pays no mind to the camera flashes or crowds, either. They’ve been doin’ this job almost twenty years between ‘em, and they’ve seen it all. Like all good working class horses, they’ve become inured to the frivolity.”

“Bless,” Rose fluttered her eyelashes at John.

“Take us in, then, Fergus,” John commanded, waving one arm expansively. “Right up to the red carpet if you can manage it. My Lady and I will pose for the persistent paparazzi and have a brief but revealing chinwag with the tabloid press.”

“That be a fine choice, Gov’nur,” their elderly driver said approvingly. “Give’m what they come fer and they’ll leave ye alone quick enough. I promise ye none of ‘em will set foot inside the hotel, our Ealasaid will see to that. Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

“Thank you, Fergus!” Rose said, as John was too busy trying not to laugh. Their driver was either an amazing character actor or the genuine article. Perhaps he was both. 

“Our driver obviously has hidden depths,” Rose whispered into John’s ear.

“He and the pastor are either from central casting or they’re time travelers,” John chortled, his free hand half covering his mouth. “Either way, they’re fantastic! I don’t think even Neil could write dialogue this colourful!”

Their carriage was mobbed the instant it pulled up to the red carpet, and the horses looked bored. John noticed their wedding photographer standing in the doorway of the hotel. He’d roared away on his motorbike to get into position to photograph them alighting from the carriage onto the red carpet. The fellow was tall, skinny, and easy to spot in his leather jacket. He grinned at John and gave him a thumbs up before raising his camera. Four young men dressed in the hotel livery emerged to clear the red carpet so the couple could proceed into the hotel unmolested. John rose from his seat and pulled Rose up against his side, smiling and waving at the crowd. The paparazzi went wild. Rose saw a television news van from Glasgow and her smile deepened.

“News van at three-o’clock,” she warned him, over the din.

“Fantastic! This is going to do wonders for our ratings!”

Rose laughed and kissed his cheek. John closed his eyes against the barrage of camera flashes and pressed a chaste kiss to Rose’s forehead. She sighed and leaned against him for a moment as they waited for one of the footmen to open the carriage door for them.

John got out first, reaching up to lift Rose out. The camera flashes were continuous now. The footman retrieved Rose’s bouquet from the carriage for her and she grinned at him.

“Thank you! Do they give you combat pay?” she queried of the young man.

“Enjoy a bit of excitement,” the lad replied, smiling.

“We’re going to pose on the carpet for these nice people and answer a few questions before going inside,” John explained. The footman nodded. John turned around to extend a hand and a large tip to Fergus, who bestowed a heartfelt blessing upon their house. Rose blew the driver a kiss. The old man winked at her and emitted a loud whistle that pierced the babble like a knife.

“Mister and Mussus Noble have consented to pose on the red carpet for photos and then they will answer a few questions,” Fergus announced, his baritone brogue cutting through the sudden silence. “Mind that ye remember the manners yer mums tried to beat into ye. I’d never use a whip on my horses, but I’ve been known to give impertinent newsmen a lash or two.” 

For the next few minutes Rose and John posed for photos, their own wedding photographer taking the lead, putting them through their paces the way he had back at the Tower.

“Got everything you need out here, Dave?” Rose asked. The photographer flashed her a brilliant grin and nodded.

“Tell Ealasaid we’re just going to take a few questions and we’ll be right in,” John said.

“She knows,” the wedding photographer assured him, gesturing to the front door of the hotel. John looked up to see the petite wedding planner waiting in the doorway of the hotel. He grinned and waved at her. She waved back.

“Okay, what do you lot want to know?” he demanded with a manic smile as he pointed at one of the reporters.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> This chapter is NSFW. It features non-con roleplay. To be clear - everything that happens is one hundred and ten percent consensual, but they are _roleplaying_ non-con/dub-con. 
> 
> So that's your warning. :) 
> 
> Chapter by Untempered Schism.  
> Beta'd by Develish1 and tenroseforeverandever

John unlocked the door to the Rose Suite before he picked his wife up and carried her over the threshold. She met his gaze as he set her back on her feet, love radiating from her whiskey coloured eyes as she beamed up at him.

“So, Mrs. Noble, I’ve married you twice, signed all the papers, drank enough champagne to fill a teapot, danced with your mother, cut the cake, and tossed your garter. Tony is going to treasure that garter, you know, and he won it fair and square.”

“He looked so adorable in his little suit and waistcoat,” Rose said as John hung the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the outer doorknob of their suite. He closed the door, drew the privacy chain and immediately turned to lift her off her feet again. This time he swung her around so her back was against the door. 

Rose giggled as he set her down and leaned into her. Her pupils dilated and John could feel her shiver of anticipation beneath his fingertips. He flashed her a triumphant smirk. This was a familiar bit of foreplay they often indulged in and he knew how much Rose loved it.

“So,” he tried to sound casual, “I’ve been thinking about this moment all day.”

“Me too,” she sounded breathless.

“Would you like me to take you right now against this door?” His deep, intimate tone inspired another shiver in his bride. He’d leaned down to speak into her ear and now his lips brushed delicately over her earlobe. He released a tantalizing puff of air that caused her pendant earring to sway even as his fingers dug possessively into her corseted waist. Rose inhaled sharply and raised one hand to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing a path across his lower lip. 

“God, yes!” Rose exclaimed. “I would _love_ for you to take me right now against this door. I’ve been thinking about this since I caught sight of you all decked out in your wedding finery.” 

“Vixen,” he taunted. “You’ve never looked more gorgeous, and you’re always gorgeous, Rose. Did you ask Gwen to pattern this dress after the one you wore in the time travel episode where we met Charles Dickens?” 

“Of course!”

He took a step back to favour her with an appreciative sweep of his eyes from the top of her upswept hair all the way down to the open toes of her four inch heels. He growled, stepping forward again with the grace of a feline predator until his body was pressed as close to her as her skirt and petticoats would allow. Rose inhaled sharply, her pelvis jerking responsively against his thigh.

“It isn’t like I didn’t know how much you loved that dress,” she teased. “You couldn’t keep your hands off me when I was wearin’ it.”

“I can’t keep my hands off you, full stop. The dress just accentuates your natural beauty.” He exhaled on a sigh. “I still can’t believe you’re actually my wife now, Rose.”

“And you’re my husband.” Rose waved her left hand over his right shoulder to admire the sparkle of the diamonds in her rings as they caught the light. She pressed an almost chaste kiss to his lips, letting her hand fall to his shoulder. “Ianto is going to change my name in the credits for the show to Rose Noble when they air the first episode of this series. I’ve already checked, there isn’t another Rose Noble in Equity so my agent is handling the paperwork.”

“Rose Noble?” he said, favouring her with the awed expression she’d seen so much of today. “You’re going to legally take my name?”

“Of course!“ She laughed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve built your career with your own name. I just assumed--”

“Stop assuming, it always gets you in trouble.” Rose smiled. “I’m your wife now, it’s my name. I love it. I love you!”

“And I love you, Rose Marion Noble,” he added, her new name rolling off his tongue. His voice was pitched low and seemed oddly breathless to Rose. “Mrs.Jonathan Wilfred Noble,” he recited, unable to stop staring at her. “My bride.”

“Take off my garter, Husband,” she commanded, flashing him a tongue-touched grin. “The traditions must be observed. Feel free to leave the stockings, they’re your favourite brand of hold-ups.”

John groaned and instantly dropped to his knees before her to gather up the yards and yards of skirt and petticoat in an attempt to locate his prize.

“While you’re down there, you my as well take off my knickers, too,” she added, smirking. “And don’t you dare tear them off, either! Those are the most expensive knickers I’ve ever owned.”

“Worth every penny,” he gasped when the item in question came into view. He pressed a kiss to the silky fabric and groaned, his eyes almost rolling back in his head in ecstasy as the scent of her arousal perfumed the air.

“Feel free to take your time, John,” she encouraged him with a giggle. “We have an eight a.m. wake-up call, and we can always sleep on the flight to San Diego.”

“Oh, I intend to take my time, love, but I’m not a savage. I’ll allow you to get a _few_ hours sleep before we leave in the morning,” he assured her as he pulled on the frilly garter and let it snap back against her thigh. “Not rushin’ a moment of this, me.”

“I do love your attention to detail,” Rose murmured approvingly. John pressed a kiss just above the top of her stocking, his lips lingering against her bare flesh and she shivered. He slowly slid the garter down her silk encased leg and she raised her foot for him to pull it off her.

A moment later John’s head popped up comically from beneath the wad of wedding gown and petticoats. Rose reached out to grab at the bundle of taffeta, silk and lace he had rolled up to her waist before it succumbed to gravity.

“The last tradition is complete!” John crowed, a daft grin on his face as he waved the garter in triumph.

“Not quite. You forgot the consummation,” Rose teased with a tongue-touched grin.

“Haven’t forgotten it, me.” He offered her a smug smirk. “Have a bit of patience, wench,” he added, channeling Asher by using one of his trademark phrases.

“I’m not your wench,” she retorted with a haughty sniff of disapproval. She had slipped into Bridget’s character with the ease of a seasoned performer. “I’m not any man’s wench and you’ll not tell me what to do!”

John rose to his feet and raked her with a slow, appraising gaze. He tossed the garter over his shoulder and scoffed in a way John never would. He had morphed into Asher. Rose licked her lips in anticipation, her heart accelerating.

“Just because you have me in your power,” she lifted her chin to meet his gaze defiantly, “you would be mistaken to think that I will bow to your will.” She was still clutching her skirt and petticoats against her abdomen, glaring up at her husband as she played her part in their familiar and exciting role-play.

“You would be surprised what positions my will would require of you.” He exuded a sensual, smouldering arrogance that was all Asher, but the promise of pleasure, the quirking of his lips and the raw devotion and desire in that dark gaze was all John.

She arched a brow. “You would force me? So much for your claims of the superiority of your race. You speak of how advanced and civilized your world is compared to mine, but I’ve only your word that it is so. All I’ve seen of it is a prison cell and the laboratory of a mad scientist who would have used me for his experiments if I hadn’t escaped, M’Lord.”

“You were chosen for your biological compatibility with my people,” he reminded her in Asher’s darker tones. “To save our race from extinction. No harm would have come to you.”

“I was drugged, abducted, and taken to your world against my will. I was restrained, poked and prodded by your scientists, and kept in a locked cell. Harm has _already_ been done. Why should I not assume that you would force me to do anything you wished?”

“I’ve never forced a wench to warm my bunk, and I never will,” John retorted in Asher’s imperious voice. “You know that my olfactory senses are much advanced over your own primitive sense of smell. I’m inhaling the perfume of your arousal.” He smirked and glanced down at her knickers. “And your knickers are quite wet, M’Lady. Your body betrays you.”

Rose blushed, still a bit embarrassed by how exciting this roleplay was, and how very sexy John was when he was in Asher’s imperious seduction mode. “Who said anything about me warming your bunk, M’Lord? I’d require proof of your biological superiority before I would ever consider such a thing.” She smiled, the tongue-touched smile she only used with John. “Tell me, Lord Asher, how long can an Alpha Epsilonian male hold his breath?” 

John’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating to nearly eclipse the blue irises. “Long enough,” he replied, his voice like rough silk. “Would you like a demonstration?”

“Yes, in the spirit of scientific research,” Rose dared him with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “If you prove to me that your tongue is good for something other than barking out commands, M’Lord, I might begin to believe your claims of biological superiority.” 

“Like a challenge, me.” John replied, breaking character for a moment.

“That, I already know,” she beamed up at him with no trace of Bridget in her voice. There was only trust and adoration shining in her eyes.

“Is this okay?” Suddenly vulnerable and unsure, he sought her approval. “It just occurred to me that maybe tonight of all nights I shouldn’t have-- I’m sorry, I didn’t set out to--”

“It just happened, I know. Asher and Bridget brought us together and I love it when we roleplay them. Shall I tell you a secret, Husband?” She dropped her gaze to linger appreciatively over the bulge in his trousers.

“Of course,” he responded, curiosity replacing his uncertainty. 

“When you pretend to be Asher and go all broody and commanding, I love it. I must have a bit of a kink about being dominated.” She blushed. 

He smirked. “Good, Cause I think I have a bit of a kink when it comes to dominating you. At least when we’re role-playing, anyway,” he confessed, his ears turning red. “I don’t think it’s an accident that I fall into Asher’s character when we have wall sex. Asher is a lot more of an Alpha male than I am.”

“I think your bit of kink is just a part of who you are.” She eyed him appraisingly. “Just like my desire to be bossed about by you now and again when we’re making love is part of who I am.”

“For the record, one of the things I love the most about you is that you never let other people make your decisions for you,” He met her gaze as he brushed his thumb over the inner aspect of her wrist. “I’m more than a little in awe of your fierce independence.” 

“For the record,” she paused to give him a tongue-touched smile, “I love the fact that you always treat me as a partner, an equal.” Her smile slipped into a wide, brilliant grin. 

“More than just an equal,” he amended. “You, my love, are my better half and the light of my life. Don’t deserve someone like you, me.” 

“I feel the same way about you,” Rose insisted, pressing her lips against the exposed flesh above his collar. John tugged her closer with his free hand. She raised her head to look up at him a moment later and smirked. “And since we’re on the record, John and Asher are _both_ dead sexy.” She cradled his cheek to guide his face toward hers, capturing his lips in a smouldering kiss that ignited every nerve ending in his entire body. He responded in kind, the two of them only coming up for a breath when it became absolutely necessary. 

“Shall we continue, M”Lord?” Rose eventually asked him in Bridget’s voice. He admired the fact that it betrayed no breathlessness. “I believe you promised me a demonstration.”

“As you like, M’Lady,” John responded, stepping back to rake his eyes over her in a sensuously predatory way. The arrogance of that lingering gaze was all Asher as he stepped forward again, pressing her firmly into the door with his body, his mouth meeting hers in a blatantly possessive snog. His hands roved beneath her tucked up clothing to slip beneath the waistband of her knickers. The gentle tug of his large fingers on that almost transparent bit of French silk were a complete contrast to the demanding sweep of his tongue against hers and the growl of anticipation that rumbled in his chest. As he inched the flimsy, lace-trimmed garment over her thighs, his mouth trailed a path of butterfly kisses across her jaw and down the slender column of her neck. 

Rose was gasping for air, her heart racing as he licked a teasing trail across her clavicle. When the knickers surrendered to gravity, pooling on the plush carpet, he placed one lingering kiss to the soft upper swell of her left breast. She knew he could feel the accelerated pounding of her heart with his lips and felt the twitch of his triumphant smirk against her skin. 

“Please explain to me, Lady Bridget, how a man could force a willing wench?”

“Is arrogance a primary character flaw shared by all males of your species?” Rose queried sweetly. “I ask because I have not yet had interactions with enough male Alpha Epsilonians to gather a proper representative sampling.”

“The women of my species are not as impertinent as you are. They acknowledge masculine physical and intellectual superiority, and do not question our preeminence.“

“So you’re saying that all Alpha Epsilonian males _are_ just as full of themselves as you are,” Rose concluded with a tiny smile as she channeled Bridget. “That explains a lot. Do your womenfolk _ever_ get an opportunity to tell you men what to do?” 

“Tell me what you want me to do now,” he commanded, his voice rough with pent-up desire, “and I shall do it. On my world, an Alpha Epsilonian male puts the pleasure of his woman first in the privacy of their chambers. It is one of many reasons our women are so quick to acknowledge our predominance.”

“ _Prove_ your predominance, then.”

“Tell me what you _want_ me to do, and I shall,” he countered, the fingers of one hand caressing and teasing her inner thigh, moving ever closer to where she desired them to be.

“I want you to use your tongue on me,” she murmured.

“Is that all?” He dropped to his knees. Both of his hands were caressing her inner thighs, swirling circles that reminded Rose of Asher’s written alien language. John had become very involved in what each of those circular glyphs actually meant, discussing each one at length with Cathica in the art department. She’d often seen the two of them poring over the details of each new word or phrase, comparing it to Egyptian hieroglyphics. The result was a growing wall of Alpha Epsilonian glyphs on post-its all over Cathica’s cube. She wondered if the circles he was tracing over her skin actually meant something. John was, after all, pretending to be Asher at the moment, and he was known for losing himself in a role.

“How about my lips?” He looked up at her and she admired how the lamplight reflected the stormy blue-grey depths of his eyes. She bit her kiss-swollen bottom lip and nodded. “My teeth?” He prompted. Rose nodded again.

“I want you to _tell_ me exactly what you want,” he insisted quietly. “The more specific the better, M’Lady. The entire point of this demonstration is your sexual gratification.”

“I thought it was to prove a point,” Rose bristled and arched a brow in just the way she imagined Bridget would make Asher work for this.

“And to do that, I intend to give you mind-numbing ecstasy,” he assured her in a silky tone much lower in pitch than normal. “Will it also prove my intellectual and physical superiority? I think I shall let you be the judge of that, M’Lady.”

“I’m not _your_ Lady,” she retorted, as one of his fingers traced the folds of her sex. She shivered and bit her lip to stifle a gasp.

“Not yet,” he agreed with an insolent shrug. “The night is young. Now tell me what you want.”

“Make me come,” she breathed. “Use your fingers, your mouth, and your imagination, Lord Asher.”

“A potent cocktail.” He met her gaze as he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. The sight of him on his knees before her was driving her half mad. All she wanted him to do was use his agile tongue to pleasure her. She needed him to taste the musky nectar of her desire for him. She wanted him to hear the noises she would make as he drove her to the brink of orgasm, to savour the sound of her begging for release. One of his hands cupped her bottom while the forefinger of the other teased the slippery seam of her sex. “Your wish is my command, _My_ Lady.”

Rose slumped against the door in boneless surrender while his fingers spread her open. She moaned when his agile tongue explored her spasming passage. Delicious tension coiled in her lower abdomen and she cried out when he nudged her clit with his nose. When a triumphant laugh rumbled from his chest to his lips, she bit her lip to reign in a shout and pressed her palms flat against the door. As delightful as this was, somewhere in the back of her mind, she retained the thought that they were still roleplaying and she was supposed to be resisting this. John curled his tongue against a part of her in a way he knew drove her wild and slid his forefinger inside her to lubricate it. When he used it to tap lightly on her clit she gasped, clenching around his invasive but talented tongue.

“Well, fuck resistance,” she muttered. “No woman in her right mind-- Oh my God! Do that again!” she exclaimed, her voice escalating into a near scream. He did as she asked, repeatedly. She realised at some point that she was running her fingers through his hair, encouraging him, her hips undulating urgently against the mouth that was giving her such ecstasy. She escalated to pleas and the invocation of varied deities each time he tapped her clit or drew his tongue over a sensitive spot deep inside her. When he slid two fingers inside her and used his tongue on her clit, she squirmed against the door, her body jerking in his grasp as he taunted her. She swore fluently as she sought release.

“Yes, yes, yesss!” she hissed as he grazed her aching clit. “More like that!” she begged. “I need--” He hummed, sliding his tongue out of a teasing spiral to administer a mind-fusing fusillade of taps to her clit before circling it again. “That!” she cried, her fingers tangling in his hair to hold him against her and urge him on. That little maneuver was her absolute favorite, and it never failed to make her come when she was hovering on the brink of orgasm the way she was right now. “Please! More of that!”

“Patience,” he murmured as he slid three fingers inside her, pumping languidly to simulate the girth of his cock as his tongue concentrated on torturing her with glancing swipes around her clit, denying her the direct assault he knew she wanted. He was still humming, his free hand curling around the back of her thigh in an attempt to hold her steady as she wiggled and bucked in his one-handed grasp. “Tell me you want this,” he commanded, his fingers thrusting into her the way she liked, seeking and finding that sweet spot that drove her half mad with desire. His tongue danced in a frustrating waltz around her clit, just shy of where she wanted it.

“I-- I-- Of course I want this,” she gasped. “I want to come! I’m so close to--”

“Not until I say that you can, wench,” he commanded sternly, reminding her that they were role-playing. “You will only come when I allow it.”

“Bastard!” she accused, her arousal ratcheting up even as he punished her by denying her the pulse of the tip of his tongue. She slipped back from the brink of her orgasm, quivering in frustration and outrage. “How dare you--”

“I dare because I’m the one giving you this pleasure. Do as I say and I promise you the most mind-shattering climax of your life.”

“Oh, you think you’re so fucking impressive,” she muttered with a groan of frustration. 

“I’ll prove it soon enough. Now, you’re going to tell me a fantasy you’ve had about me.” His fingers still moved inside her but more slowly, coaxing her down from the brink. “Don’t deny that you find me physically attractive, M’Lady. I know you’ve thought about this and more.”

“I have not--”

“Liar,” he laughed, his breath warm against her, his free hand caressing her bottom again, massaging it as he would the flank of a spooked horse. “There have been times when you’ve looked at me the way a woman looks at a potential mate. You might not like or approve of me, and you certainly do not trust me, but you’ve imagined me fucking you. Admit it.”

“Maybe once, not long after we first met.” Rose tried to feign reluctance even as she was distracted by the way his fingers were still moving so enticingly inside her. She was thinking of when they’d been filming a scene very early in the first season. Bridget had been Asher’s prisoner, confined in the small brig of his ship. John had morphed so effortlessly into Asher, delivering a righteously indignant and impassioned explanation of how the Alpha Epsilonians were trying to stave off extinction. His performance had literally taken her breath away as John, who was thought to be a bit grumpy but in reality quite sweet, radiated so much menacing arrogance. Even more surprising was the raw sensuality and suggestion of physical domination in John’s portrayal of Asher. Rose had actually shivered on their first take of that scene, flushing with embarrassment as she tried to hide how incredibly arousing John was as he nailed the subtle sexual intimidation of Asher. She’d already fallen for John by that time, but she’d still been uncertain if he felt the same way about her.

She now knew that an awful lot of that simmering attraction between them had translated into their performances as Bridget and Asher. She’d watched that scene in the brig again a few weeks ago when the BBC had rebroadcast it, and realized the barely restrained sexual tension between them was glaringly obvious. No wonder the writers had decided to devise a slow-burn romance between Bridget and Asher for this series. The two characters had been constantly at each other’s throats in series one, arguing and hurling insults back and forth like daggers, but as the series progressed, their exchanges had become more complex and nuanced. Loathing had gradually morphed into grudging admiration and reluctant but powerful physical attraction on both sides. The fantastic side effect of the power of Asher’s onscreen chemistry with Bridget had rendered her onscreen romance with Harold Saxon’s character not just insipid, but completely unnecessary. 

“Physically, you are quite well constructed, M’Lord.” she continued in Bridget’s haughty tone. “Not what _I_ would call handsome, but you’re attractive enough when you deign to smile.” 

“While you are quite beautiful,” he replied, pausing for a moment before continuing. “For a human.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, a bit jealous of his ability to extemporize so brilliantly.

“I have imagined what it would be like to take you, M’Lady, more than once.” His voice dropped in pitch and volume. “Many long nights I have entertained myself with thoughts of seducing you without breaking your spirit. The temptation to see if losing myself in the alien heat of your body would surpass the pleasure of my fantasies is quite overwhelming. You antagonize and intrigue me in equal measure, so beautiful, willful, proud, and fierce. Now share _your_ fantasy with me.”

John raised his head to meet her gaze as he made his demand, something new flickering in his eyes, an intensity she hadn’t expected.

“In the brig, when I was your prisoner,” she murmured, thinking of the erotic dream she’d had the night following that shoot. “When you told me about the plight of your people, that was when I knew I was attracted to you.” She paused, licking her lips, meeting his gaze, “I thought at the time that you were going to force yourself on me. A small, but insanely wanton part of me found that possibility arousing.” 

“You are a fiercely independent woman,” he whispered. “You bow to no man. But in the privacy of your chambers you long to be dominated, to relinquish a bit of control, even if it is only a part of love-play.” His lips brushed sensuously over her clit and her body responded, her pelvis bucking toward the source of pleasure, seeking more stimulation.

“Yes!” she cried, running her fingers through his hair. “More, please!”

“Tell me your fantasy.” 

“I imagined you taking me against my will right there in the cell.” She flushed with embarrassment as she told him about her dream. “I tried to escape, but you had locked the door behind you. When you grabbed me and I struggled, you pushed me against the wall and forced me into the manacles. I was at your mercy.”

“Restrained by iron manacles yet still hissing and spitting like an enraged kitten.” He squeezed her bottom as the rhythm of his invading fingers sped up. “What happened next?”

“You ran your hands over me, taunting me, promising to give me pleasure no man from Earth could ever give me.” She shivered as his tongue laved circles over her inner thigh.

“And still you resisted,” he said with a chuckle.

“I tried,” she told him, biting her lip as she played the memory of that dream over in her mind. She clenched around his fingers, bucking against his hand. “But you were kissing me and fondling me and against my will I became incredibly aroused. You started to unbutton my shirt and I tried to fight you off, but you laughed, explaining that the drugs the scientist had injected into me had an aphrodisiac effect, designed to make me respond to an Alpha Epsilonian so I would eventually beg for you to take me. They must have been aphrodisiacs, because I was burning inside, desperate for release. I wanted, I wanted you to--”

“You wanted me to fuck you.” he growled, trailing his tongue closer to her clit. “Were you still resisting?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “You-- you unbuttoned my shirt and unfastened my bra and started licking and squeezing my breasts. It felt so good, your mouth on my bare skin. I was still begging you to stop, but you could tell I wanted it and you laughed at my denials, calling me a ‘cock tease.’”

“You _are_ a cock tease.” His breath was warm against her flesh. He laved her clit with the tip of his tongue and she shuddered. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since I first tracked you down and threw you in my brig. Women on my planet are docile and obedient, you were just the opposite of a well-bred Alpha Epsilonian lady and I wanted to tame you and mark you as mine. What happened next in your fantasy?”

“You unfastened my belt and removed my trousers and knickers and told me you were going to fuck some obedience into me,” she replied, shivering. “Then you stood in front of me and took your clothes off.”

“Did you like what you saw?” He glanced up at her. Rose met his gaze, shuddering as the sound of his voice, rough, sensual and demanding, washed over her. She wondered if he could just talk her into an orgasm. She suspected he might.

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, clenching around his fingers. The sight of him kneeling before her as his voice and fingers teasing her ever closer to a climax was overwhelming enough, but the way he was prying the details of her erotic dream out of her was profoundly carnal. “You were gorgeous, so big and aroused.” 

Suddenly he pulled his fingers out of her and rose to his feet, eyeing her speculatively even as she whined in frustration.

“Hush,” he admonished, as he shrugged off his jacket, untied his tie and removed his waistcoat. “I’m going to take your clothes off now and then take off the rest of mine.” Rose already felt naked beneath his piercing gaze. When he slowly licked his lips, a sharp twinge of frustrated desire deep inside her made her bite her bottom lip to refrain from moaning loudly. “Then I’m going to fuck you up against that door just like I did in your fantasy,” he continued with a smouldering glance that literally made her knees weak. She’d always laughed when she read that in her Mum’s Mills and Boon novels but she wasn’t laughing now.

“But I--”

“Hush!” he interrupted imperiously, gesturing for her to turn around so he could unlace her corset. She obeyed immediately, desperate for him to follow through on his promise. For several minutes she stood silently, facing the door, her heart racing as she anticipated the way he was going to take her. She felt him tugging at the laces on the corset bodice of her gown, methodically loosening it from the top. When he had it nearly loose enough to slide it down over her hips, he leaned in, his lips brushing seductively against her neck just behind her right ear. “Tell me, what did it feel like in your fantasy when I shoved my cock inside you?”

“I was full, so full, you’re so much bigger--”

“Superior genetics,” he bragged, still tugging at the laces. “Did you like my big cock filling you up?” Rose nodded, her vaginal walls clenching as his fingers teased along her exposed back. His hands yanked impatiently at her gown until it slipped over her hips, taking the attached petticoats with it. He took her hand and helped her step over the ivory puddle of silk, satin and lace on the floor, fondling her arse with his other hand as he snatched up the gown and led her back against the door, this time facing him. “Good. You need a good, proper fucking, wench, and I’m about to spoil you for anyone else.” She watched him as he hung her gown up on a hanger from the closet, his hands smoothing over the skirt. He turned back to drink in the sight of her in nothing but silk stockings and heels, his eyes dark with arousal. His trousers were tented as his heavy erection strained against the zipper.

He held her gaze as if he was attempting to mesmerise her while he removed the studs from his shirt and made quick work of the cufflinks, setting them aside. Sitting on a chair, he removed his shoes and socks, pausing to smirk at her as she stood before him. She found she couldn’t look away from him even when she tried. He was dead sexy, lean and toned, the golden skin of his torso still retained some of the tan he’d acquired on their holiday, triggering memories of lazy lovemaking in the privacy of their secluded patio courtyard while the rest of the city slept through the heat of the day. 

“I want you to leave the stockings and heels on,” he rumbled, smirking at her. “You’re getting your fantasy, so I should get mine, too.” She bit her lip, fighting a smirk of her own. She congratulated herself on her decision to wear high heels and silk stockings. Apparently Asher shared John’s kinks. Big surprise there.

He continued to study her as he shrugged his shirt off and reached for the clasp on his trousers. She was riveted by the ripple of lean muscle beneath taut skin, the glorious length of his exposed torso and arms. His hands, removing the last barrier between them, so strong yet gentle and wickedly dexterous.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured as he tugged his zipper down slowly. His gaze still lingered like a caress over her, raw desire shining in his eyes. “So perfect. I’m going to enjoy this, claiming you.”

“You-- You’re all about possession, aren’t you?” she taunted after a moment, belatedly remembering to respond in character. “Women aren’t commodities to be bought and sold, you know.”

He arched a brow at her, his lips twitching in an obvious effort not to smile at her excellent performance. His trousers and pants slid down over his hips together and he stepped out of them, gloriously nude except for his wedding band. Rose had opened her mouth to say something else about the misogyny of Alpha Epsilonian males but her brain shorted out. Nude sunbathing on their hiatus had given his skin a bronze glow that hadn’t completely faded. He crossed the distance between them, lithe, lean, and magnificently aroused. He stopped a scant inch from her, so close she could inhale the clean scent of him and feel his breath stirring her upswept curls. “Right now, I am going to prove to you my physical prowess as a lover, M’Lady,” he growled. “But since we are recreating your fantasy, you should feel free to try to resist me. I do love a challenge, and the the more you struggle against my advances, the more I will enjoy breaking down your resistance.”

“I’m not easily coerced,” Rose glared at him and backed up, her bum hitting the door. He moved quickly to pin her against it with his body.

“I think we both know that isn’t true.” He grabbed her wrists, pinning them to her side when she tried to push him away. “Did I take you from behind in your fantasy?”

“No!” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Ah, we’ll leave that for later, then,” he said smugly. “That position is better on the floor or with you bent over the bed anyway.” He pressed his erection against her abdomen and sighed, releasing one of her hands to slide two fingers into her slippery sex. “And don’t try to tell me you don’t want this, since your lovely body is begging for my cock.” He lifted his drenched fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, making a show of savoring the taste and scent of her. 

“Oi!” She squirmed against the weight of him pressing her snug against the door. “I’m not some mindless, subservient, sex-starved female, you know.”

“No, you’re certainly not mindless or subservient,” he taunted, grinning as she processed what he had just said. She inhaled sharply, staring daggers at him.

“I am not sex-starved!” she cried. “Oh, you arrogant, insufferable--” Rose raised her hand to slap him, and he grabbed her wrist just in time to prevent her from connecting with his cheek, chuckling. “Arsehole!” she finished, trying to wrench her hand out of his grasp.

“Oh, you are a firebrand,” he said, his mouth covering hers to muffle her outraged response. Rose fought him, moaning as he silenced her words. She was still struggling to escape his grasp, but he insinuated his lips and tongue firmly over hers, swallowing her gasp of protest and rutting sensuously against her. Still fighting him, she did not return the kiss. “You taste amazin’,” he murmured. “And you smell fantastic. You know that you _want_ me to fuck you, more than that, you _need_ me to fuck you. Cooperate a bit.” He raised his head and met her gaze. “Kiss me,” he commanded imperiously.

“No!” She glared at him. He shrugged. Still holding her wrists, he lowered his head to leave a trail of kisses, nips, and bites until he was sucking and nibbling on her right nipple. Rose was still struggling, but she also shivered. His tongue was so agile and he knew just how to torment her. When she let her head fall back against the door, emitting a poorly stifled whimper of mixed pleasure and frustration, she felt his lips twitch into a triumphant grin.

“Bastard!” She fought back a laugh. He did laugh, shifting to give her left nipple the same attention. He released her right hand to fondle the breast his mouth had abandoned and soon her hips were restlessly meeting his as he rutted against her.

“Leave my pedigree out of this, wench. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you,” he commanded. “I want you hear you beg for it.”

“Chance would be fine thing,” she retorted.

“What did I do in your fantasy?” he queried, raising his head to meet her gaze. 

She flushed. “You lifted me up and pinned me against the door,” she whispered. “I had to wrap my arms and legs around you to keep you from falling.”

“Like this?” He lifted her up effortlessly until she was pressed snugly between his body and the door, her chin level with his forehead. She grabbed his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. He smirked and shifted a bit, using his weight to pin her in place as he reached between them with one hand to press the head of his cock against her slick sex. Rose gasped as he allowed her to slide down just enough for his erection to just nudge inside her. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he goaded, siding his forefinger through the slick lubrication leaking from where they were joined before rubbing it over her clit. Rose cried out, her pelvis bucking reflexively against his finger, forcing his rigid cock deeper inside her. He laughed, pressing a kiss against her neck. “Beg me to take you,” he commanded.

“I’m not begging you for anything,” she said, annoyed that her voice came out more than a bit breathless.

“Then I’ll have to convince you.” He moved his slippery finger against her clit as he pulsed the head of his cock just a bit further in and almost out of her spasming channel. It was a taunting rut, and combined with his expert teasing of her clit her determination to remain in character briefly faltered.

“Something you want to say?” he inquired, one hand squeezing her bottom while the other toyed with her clit. Rose inhaled the scent of him, masculine and arousing, her spine pressed against the slick surface of the door. She was sliding centimetre by torturous centimetre further down on his cock. She tried to lift herself up by pushing down on his shoulders, but she slid right back down again and a bit more when he backed up just enough to let her weight carry her down.

“Nothing!” she squeaked in frustration, digging the backs of her heels into his muscular bum in a frantic attempt to stave off the inevitable. His revenge for her refusal to beg was swift and devastating, a protracted series of gentle taps, his slick, taunting digit rhythmically stimulating her traitorously straining bundle of nerves. The pleasure centres of her brain lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Jesus!” she cried, flushing as her pelvis bucked against that talented finger. Some part of her noticed that she’d slid a bit lower on his cock, the fullness of it as it impaled her mingling with the next series of taps forced an undignified whimper out of her.

“I am honoured that you have mistaken me for a deity,” he murmured, his lips pressed intimately against her ear, “albeit an Earth one, but I’m waiting for you to finish your plea, wench. Just beg me to take you, a small sacrifice of your dignity for a great deal of ecstasy, I assure you, M’Lady.”

“Arrogant arsehole!” she hissed, squirming in frustration. She belatedly realized that squirming was only forcing her more quickly down upon his erect shaft. She groaned at the way he was filling her and stopped moving as she tried to think of a way to turn the tables on him. His mouth was busy nibbling and sucking along her neck, driving her half spare. Too bad she couldn’t reach any of his erogenous zones with her mouth in this position. Or could she?

“I had another fantasy about you.” She met his gaze with a lascivious flutter of her eyelashes. “Would you like to hear it?”

“I doubt it could be any more arousing than you sliding down my cock, wench,” he countered, letting her slide a bit lower.

“Probably not,” she shrugged, maintaining eye contact with him while slowly licking her lips. It was playing dirty, because he had a thing about her lips, and she knew right now he was thinking about them wrapped around his erect cock. Blowjobs were his Achilles heel. “It was an amazing fantasy, though. I was sucking on that great big cock of yours, smearing it with my lippy and swallowing it down the back of my throat. Earth girls learn how to do that, you know. Our men like it. Something about a woman on her knees with his cock in her mouth is a huge turn on for Earth men. I imagined you’d thread your hands through my hair and be a bit rough about it, but I like it rough. So impatient, men in general, especially with a woman’s hot mouth sucking on your erection. In my fantasy you liked it best when I hummed and scraped my teeth lightly against your shaft. You enjoyed it when I ran my tongue over the head of your cock, too. I liked caressing your balls, loved the sound you made when I did that, a low groan you tried to stifle but couldn’t. After all, a big strong Alpha Epsilonian warrior like yourself isn’t used to being undone by a little slip of an Earth girl, is he? The best part was when you came in mouth, crying out and pulsing against the back of my throat. It felt so--”

“Rose!” John gasped, suddenly bucking urgently up hard inside her, shoving her up against the door, one hand cradling her head protectively, the other supporting and squeezing her arse. He was looking at her with wide, dilated pupils, utter adoration and frantic need radiating from him. “Rose, my Rose, my own Rose!”

“Of course I’m yours, my love,,” she assured him , all thoughts of roleplaying evaporating as she felt the tip of her husband’s cock nudge against her cervix. “Oh John! Yes! Please, more!”

Suddenly he was pounding into her, his mouth ravishing hers, muffling her pleas for more. She was always astonished by how strong John was when he got like this, how powerful. Right now she couldn’t get enough of him, clinging to him as he gave her the fast, hard rutting she so desperately needed.

“Love you, my John!” she murmured, running one hand through his hair as he raised his head to gulp a lungful of air. She loved tugging on the longer strands, curving the tips of her fingers over the sensitive shell of his ears. He always shuddered when she did that, and he did so now, sucking her bottom lip between his to scrape it with his teeth. 

“My wife,” he he rumbled in a husky, deeply possessive tone. He’d released her swollen lip but still gazed at it, a sensuous smirk on his own lips. “My gorgeous, sexy, brilliant wife!”

“Love you, Husband,” she whispered. “Love you so much!”

John’s eyes lifted to meet hers, his smirk fading as he inhaled sharply. The full depth of his awe and gratitude was etched so deeply into that daft, beloved face of his, that sudden tears of joy welled up in her eyes. Her arms tightened around him possessively, thinking how incredibly lucky she was that this amazing man had just made her his wife. He was still moving inside her, slower now, deliberate, each hard thrust driving her closer to the brink. 

“Close?” he queried, his dark pupils nearly eclipsing stormy blue.

“Oh, God, yes!” she admitted with a joyous giggle. “You?” 

He nodded, huffing a relieved breath and grinned at her, sliding a finger between them.

“Course I am,” he confided breathlessly as she felt the tip of his finger circle her clit. “You’re just so Goddamn sexy, Rose, especially when you’re all flushed and tousled. All... All mine.”

“All yours, John!” she pledged as he tapped his forefinger against her throbbing, straining clit and they climaxed together. Her entire body shuddered as she rode the rippling waves of pure ecstasy, intensely aware of him straining and pulsing into her. He was so beautiful, long lashes fluttering, his upper teeth digging into his bottom lip. His low, rumbling groan of completion as he hilted himself forcefully inside her tumbled her into another orgasm that surged, exquisite and unexpected like an electric shock. She cried out and convulsed around him, digging her nails into his shoulders. For a moment their bodies were spasming in glorious sync, hearts pounding in perfect unison as they shared exquisite bliss. The next instant they were both slumped against the door, still entwined and gasping for air. The glorious aftershocks were still zinging through her when she covered his open mouth with her own. He responded with astonishing urgency, snogging her while caressing every bit of her he was able to reach without dropping her.

“Damn, you’re good,” she gasped when he finally raised his lips from hers.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” He pressed butterfly kisses along her jaw and licked the curve of her ear. She giggled and clenched around him, realizing that he was already half hard again.

“Pretty impressive stamina for a man of your years,” she teased. “Do you think Jack might have slipped a little blue pill into your champagne?” 

“I think it was the blue knickers, love,” he growled, shifting back to slide out of her only to immediately haul her up over his shoulder. Rose squealed, kicking her legs in protest. John laughed, swatting her on her bare bum as he carried her to the bedroom of their suite.

“Put me down, you daft man!” she commanded. “Not on the bedspread, either, I’m all sticky, thanks to you.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining while I was getting you all sticky!” John’s voice, rough and Northern, was a huge contrast to the posh, upper crust tones he used when he was playing Asher. “I was under the impression you liked it.” He carefully set her down in front of him, holding her close.

“I loved it,” Rose said, nuzzling his clavicle. “Love you so much. Remember that night you were pacing in front of my trailer in Cardiff?

“It’s seared in my memory, love.” He enfolded her more securely in his embrace. Rose felt loved and cherished as he brushed his lips over her temple. “I thought you would be angry about the stories the tabs were writing, was certain you’d never want to be seen with me again.”

“Because you couldn’t imagine in a million years that you were good enough for me, yeah?” she whispered. He nodded as a fat tear rolled down her cheek. She shifted in his arms, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “That was the best night of my life, John, until now.”

His lips curved into a soft smile of utter adoration as he wiped her tear-stained cheek with his thumb. Another tumbled from her wet eyelashes and he swiped it away also. “Please don’t cry, love,” he begged her. “I can’t bear to see you cry.”

“Tears of joy, genius,” she whispered with a tempting smirk on her full lips.

“Is that another bride thing?” he bantered back, his finger drawing an Alpha Epsilonian glyph on the silky skin at the base of her spine. 

“I’m just so happy I’m finally yours,” she explained. “That first night I asked you to tell me what was in our future, do you remember?”

“I do,” he said pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I told you it would be bright and happy, and way beyond what the rest of the world calls love.”

“Quite the prognosticator, Mr. Noble.” She flashed her most provocative tongue-touched grin. “Would you care to predict how the rest of tonight will go?”

“Gonna spend it together in this big bed.” He released her to pull the bedspread and duvet aside. “Don’t move,” he admonished, holding up one finger before stepping into the ensuite. He returned with a towel and spread it in the middle of the bed.

Rose laughed, shaking her head.

“No sticky sheets,” he announced with a broad smile as he swept her up into his arms, bridal style, and carefully deposited her on the pristine towel. Rose struck a seductive pose, beckoning him to join her as she eyed his straining erection. 

“Come here, Husband,” she demanded. “I want you to show me some more of your moves.”

John joined her, his heart racing. He took his wife in his arms and reveled in her contented sigh, still a bit stunned by his tremendous good fortune. “Your wish is my command, Wife.”

\-----------------------

The next day, the flight attendants on the plane to San Diego were careful not to disturb the two newlyweds, curled around one another in contented slumber. 

“I can’t imagine why the tabs keep going on about how bitter and grumpy he is,” one whispered. “He seems cheerful and lighthearted enough to me. Did you see the way he was looking at her? I’d give a lot to have a man look at me the way John Noble looks at Rose Tyler.”

“Well I think he’s dead sexy,” the other chimed in. “Always have done. You know what they say about men with big hands. It’s no wonder they’ve slept through most of the flight, wore each other out, I’m guessin’.”

“She looks at him like he hung the moon and stars, too. He’s obviously keeping her plenty satisfied, that’s for sure.”

“Bless,” the other said with a sigh. “Nothing warms the cockles of the heart like a pair of blissful, shagged out newlyweds. I think they make a lovely couple, don’t you?”

“Oh, I do. As usual, the bloody tabloids have got it all wrong. Made for one another, those two are. It’s as clear as the nose on your face. Could you start on the drink orders for the last round then, while I restock the cart? Let the lovebirds sleep, though. It’s probably the only peace and quiet they’ll get for a while, poor lambs.”

John Noble’s lips twitched as he resisted the urge to smile. Rose sighed and shifted in her sleep, one hand splayed possessively against his wool jumper. He wrapped his arms more securely around his wife, inhaling the sweet scent of her, his eyes still closed. He drifted back to sleep a few minutes later, thinking how nice it was to know that their flight attendants shared his view of the tabloid press.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Caedmon
> 
> Beta'd by Develish1, Untempered Schism and Tenroseforeverandever

“Rose?”

“Hmm?”

“That woman is wearing one of your costumes from this past season.”

“Oh?” Rose turned around to look, not letting go of John’s hand. “She _is!_ Oh, but that’s _brilliant!_ ”

“Looks good,” Jack said. “She nailed it.”

“Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“ _Why_ is she wearing your costume?”

Rose tittered and Jack grinned. Donna spoke up.

“It’s called ‘cosplay’, you prawn. Fans like to dress up as their favorite characters.”

John shot Donna a look for calling him ‘prawn’, but didn’t get a chance to say anything before Rose told him, “I’ll bet there are people dressed as you when we do the panel.”

John was a bit surprised to hear this. “You think?”

“Sure they will!” Rose told him, squeezing his hand. “You’re very popular.”

“But I’m the bad guy.”

Rose turned and put her hand on his chest, her engagement ring catching the bright lights of the arena. “Ladies love a bad boy, John.”

He made a disbelieving sound, but didn’t respond further. He couldn’t disagree with her when she was looking up at him like that, all adoring and love-struck.

 _Blimey_ , he was a goner. 

Rose turned to the handler that had been assigned to guide them through the arena safely. “Can I go over and speak to her? She may like a picture, and I’d like to tell her what a good job she did.”

“I can’t let you wander off,” the handler replied in a stern voice.

“Fine,” Jack supplied. “Then we’ll _all_ go over there.” He put his arm around Donna and started over towards the woman dressed as Bridget. Rose didn’t waste any time going after him and John, refusing to let go of Rose’s hand, followed along.

They reached the woman in question. Donna lagged a bit behind while Rose tapped on the woman’s shoulder. “Excuse me…”

The woman turned around and let out a shriek, covering her mouth. “It’s Bridget! And Asher and Gareth! Oh my God, oh my God!” she exclaimed. 

Rose beamed, and John marveled at her effect on people. This woman had barely taken her eyes off of Rose: his wife had inspired a huge reaction in her. He could understand, she inspired a huge reaction in him, too. Forcing his train of thought away from their hotel room and back to the present, he smiled at the bouncing woman as she went on, her hands on each side of her face. 

“My name is Jennifer, Jennifer Lang, and Alpha Epsilon is my absolute favorite show! I love you three… Rose, you’re my favorite actress of all time!”

“Mine, too,” John interjected.

Rose squeezed his hand then replied kindly. “Thank you, Jennifer, you’re very sweet. I just wanted to come over and tell you how lovely your cosplay is. You did a remarkable job.”

The woman looked gobsmacked. “You...you like it?”

“‘Course I do!” Rose smiled. “It’s brilliant.”

“You are just the sweetest thing! I told my husband, Dave, I told him, ‘I bet that Rose Tyler is sweet as pie’. And you are!”

“She’s something, alright,” Jack said sardonically, and earned an elbow to the ribs from Donna and a little scowl from John. 

Jennifer looked down at Rose and John’s joined hands. She pointed at John’s wedding band. “So it’s true? You two got married?”

“Yes,” John answered, beaming proudly. “Just two days ago.” 

“Oh that’s so wonderful!” Jennifer squealed. “I saw it come across my Tumblr dash, but almost didn’t believe it was true. I have a Tumblr devoted to the show, of course, and I ship both AshBridge _and_ NobleRose. Congratulations! You both look lovely in the pictures!”

“The reporters were very handy,” John agreed. “Pete could have saved a fortune on a wedding photographer.”

Rose laughed at him. “You just like the photos they took.”

He didn’t disagree. “I especially like the one of you leaning into me.”

She bit her tongue and looked up at him mimicking the pose in question. “I remember.”

John got lost in a little fantasy that heavily featured her mouth and that tongue, but was pulled back into orbit by the voice of Jennifer.

“Well, you both looked gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” they said in unison.

Jennifer studied John, then Jack. “You’re both much more handsome in person.”

John had heard this before, but the backhanded compliment never failed to leave him a bit bemused. He wasn’t sure how to respond to the woman, but thankfully didn’t have to worry about it. Jack beamed. “Well, I like to think that the camera doesn’t do me justice…” Donna poked him in the back and he yelped.

“Who are you?” Jennifer asked Donna. 

John gestured towards her. “S’my sister, Donna.”

“Oh! Well I see that now: you two look so much alike.” They both looked mildly affronted, but Jennifer didn’t remark on it. “Will you be on the second series, Donna?” 

He couldn’t help thinking that a fan so intensely interested in the show would know better, since the season had already started filming, but he didn’t say anything.

Donna snorted. “Nah, John’s the one with all the talent in the family. Couldn’t pay me enough to be an actor.”

“You’ve got panel in five minutes, folks,” the handler told them. 

Rose nodded and turned back to Jennifer. “Would you like a picture?”

Jennifer squealed and bounced again, and once more, John kept his polite smile firmly in place, relying on years of acting skills to keep from showing his bemusement.

The woman in Rose’s costume dug around in her pocket until she produced her phone, then handed it to Donna, putting her arms around Rose and Jack. John went to stand behind Rose, putting his hands on her waist out of habit, assuming the same pose he had in his favorite of the pictures, taken two days ago on the red carpet. They all smiled and Donna pointed the phone at them. 

“Say ‘Alpha Epsilon’!” Donna called out, aiming the phone. The four people posing did as asked and Donna snapped the picture.

She handed it back to the woman. “There. I took three in case someone had their eyes closed or something, so you can choose from the best one.”

Jennifer hugged Rose, then Jack, then John. “Thank you all so much...can’t wait to see the second season!”

“The first episode airs on November 12!” Jack supplied. 

“Three minutes,” the handler prompted. 

John nodded at him, then turned back to Jennifer. “Thank you so much. You look lovely.”

Jennifer squealed, then hugged them all again and waved goodbye. As the three walked away with the handler and Donna, she was studying the pictures on her phone and giggling. 

“That was fun!” Rose said. “And her American accent was so cute!”

“Hey!” Jack said. “You never say that about my accent! Aren’t I cute?”

John glowered at him, but Rose just laughed and patted her friend’s cheek. “Of course you are, Jack. You’re adorable.”

~*~O~*~

Rose was surprised by the size of the crowd as she peeked out from behind the curtain. She’d expected a small room, but there were several hundred people packed in, possibly over a thousand.

“Look, John,” she leaned over and pointed. “See that man in the leather jacket? He’s cosplaying you. And look, there’s someone cosplaying Jack as well.”

“My cosplayer is better,” Jack crowed. Rose just laughed while John shook his head, smiling. “Say, Yan, there’s nobody cosplaying you.”

Ianto scoffed. “Nobody cosplays the showrunner.”

“You’re the hero behind the scenes,” Rose told him kindly. 

“Too right I am.”

A man walked up to them and shook Ianto’s hand. “My name is Steven, and I’ll be conducting the panel. Very excited to meet all of you. I'm a huge fan of the show.”

John extended his hand, and Steven took it. “Good to meet you, Steven.” Steven then shook Rose and Jack’s hand, who each smiled and said hello. Donna introduced herself when she greeted the panelist.

“Here’s how this works,” Steven said. “We’ll call each of you out on the stage, and you’ll have a seat on the couch and armchair. There are four microphones ready for you to use. I take the armchair perpendicular to the couch, and you four sit in the other seats. We’ll chat about the show for a couple of minutes, and then take questions.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Jack said. They each nodded.

“Rose, if you don’t mind, we’d like for you to sit in the middle between Jack and John.”

“That’s not a problem,” she said. 

“And you just married, is that correct?”

“That’s right.” John smiled down at her.

“Did your name change?”

“Yes,” Rose beamed, looking up at John then back to Steven. “I'm Rose Noble now.”

“Do you mind if I introduce you by your maiden name? Then the two of you can confirm the rumor that’s been making the rounds if you like.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Donna piped up. Rose quirked her lip a bit. Donna was right, it _would_ be a fun way to confirm for their fans in the US that they’d just married, but she’d really looked forward to this first time she would be called by her new name in public.

Steven checked his watch, then smiled at them. “Right, it’s time to start. I’ll call each of you out in turn. This is going to be a great panel. Break a leg!” He turned and walked out onto the stage, carrying a microphone and holding his hand up to call everyone’s attention.

“You nervous?” John leaned down and asked Rose. 

She shivered, as she always did when he brushed his lips against her ear. “A little. Hoping I don’t say something stupid. Usually we have a script to work with, yeah?”

“You’ll be fine, love.” 

“ _Without further ado, introducing...Ianto Jones, showrunner and head writer for Alpha Epsilon!_ ”

The crowd applauded and Ianto blinked. “Guess I’m first, then.” He walked through the parted curtains and waved at the crowd, shaking Steven’s hand before he sat in the armchair.

“Oi! Spaceman!” Donna called. John and Rose turned to look at her, and she gave her brother a stern look. “Don’t be a prat out there.”

Rose giggled, but John’s brows came together into a V. “Excuse me?”

“I said, ‘don’t be a prat’. These are fans of the show and they’re sitting in a room with their heroes. Be polite, even cheerful, if you think you can manage such a feat.”

“M’always cheerful!”

“Yeah, since Rose came along. Just keep it up, hmm?”

“Should have known better than to bring my sister on my honeymoon,” John complained, turning away from Donna.

Steven was announcing him. _“Playing Lord Asher, the sexiest villain in prime time, here's John Noble!”_

John gaped while Jack yelped, “Hey! What about me?” 

Rose and Donna burst into laughter at the look on John’s face. “See? I told you.” Rose pulled herself together a bit. “Ladies love a bad boy...and so does Steven!” Donna laughed even harder. 

He glared at Donna, but there was no real heat to it. “Shut it, you.”

Rose was giggling, but he kissed the top of her head. “You’ll do great. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em, ‘sexiest villain in prime time’.”

John cut his eyes at his best friend then schooled his features and walked out to tremendous applause, smiling and waving at the crowd. Rose took a deep breath as she watched him go. Donna patted her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“ _Alpha Epsilon’s heroine, here’s Rose Tyler_!”

The crowd clapped and shouted, and Rose walked out onto the stage, smiling. Two jumbotron screens hung over each side of the stage above her head, showing her walking out and waving. She tried not to let her awe show. She walked by Ianto and he kissed her cheek lightly. She continued to John, who also kissed her cheek. She slipped her hand into his, smiling up at him, and he squeezed it. The applause in the room intensified. 

Jack was called and the room erupted into applause again. Jack, always a ham, stopped partway across the stage to take a bow. Rose rolled her eyes with a smile. 

“Please, have a seat,” Steven invited. Once they were seated, he spoke into his microphone. “It’s great to see you all!”

“Thank you for having us,” Jack replied, shifting to get comfortable on the seat beside Rose, as John draped his arm around her, in a spontaneous display of affection. 

“Now, you all interrupted filming season two to come be with us, didn’t you?” The four nodded. “Anything you can tell us about season two so far?”

Jack smiled and brought the mic up. “Well, I’m still dashing and handsome…” The crowd laughed and a few clapped.

“We can’t tell you much, it’ll spoil the season,” John said with a smile. 

“Filming is going well, though?”

Ianto raised his microphone. “We’ve only been at it for a few months, but filming is always a breeze with these three. Absolute professionals, the lot of them.”

Rose smiled graciously at Ianto, and the crowd applauded a little.

Steven went down a different path. “Now, the internet has been awash in a certain rumor…”

John grinned. “Depending on what you read, it may or may not be true.” Rose nudged his side and he gave her a smile, the one he got when he was teasing her.

“It’s been rumored that two of you got married.”

Jack let out a long, false sigh of exasperation before John or Rose could speak. “Alright, you caught us. Yan and I were married.” He batted his eyes playfully at Ianto, who shook his head with an exasperated sort of smile, and the crowd laughed.

“Actually,” Steve said, grinning. "I was talking about Rose and John. The wedding photos have made the rounds and I notice you're both wearing wedding bands."

Rose beamed. “I can confirm that rumor to be true.” The crowd burst into thunderous applause, and several people whistled. She tilted her head towards John and he planted a quick, soft kiss on her lips. Multiple people in the crowd made an ‘aww’ sound at that.

“Has it really been two days?” she asked John, although she was speaking into the microphone.

“Well, today is the 25th, and we were married on the 23rd…”

Rose shook her head and smiled a little self-deprecatingly at herself. “Different continents and time zones. Have a hard time keeping them straight!”

“So you’re Rose Noble now?”

“I am,” she confirmed with a bright smile. “Isn’t that brilliant?”

“We’re just glad they finally did it. Took them long enough… almost an entire year,” Jack announced. John raised his hand from where it rested behind Rose’s shoulder and smacked the back of his head, earning an over-acted ‘ow!’ and huge, goofy grin from Jack that matched John’s.

“We’re going to open up the floor to a few questions now, if you guys are ready.”

“Absolutely!”

Steve pointed at a young woman who was wearing an Alpha Epsilon t-shirt and standing at the front of a line before microphone stand. She gave a shy smile, and Rose said, “Hello!”

“Hello.” The girl was visibly trembling, her voice wavering, and Rose’s heart went out to her. “I ship AshBridge, and it seemed like there were lots of heated looks and stolen glances between the two of you last season. Was that foreshadowing or real life bleeding in? Is there any hope that you two will get together this season?”

John brought the microphone up to his mouth. “We’re already together!”

“I don’t think that’s what she meant, John.” Rose grinned at him as the crowd laughed. 

He grinned as if he hadn’t understood what the girl was asking. Nobody believed he hadn’t. “Oh, you mean Bridget and Asher?” He looked back to the woman at the microphone stand. “Well, I can tell you that their relationship evolves and there are some changes. Asher isn’t the same man he was in the first series; the events of season finale affected him quite a bit. Whether for better or worse, you’ll have to be the judge of that.”

“Getting sucked into a wormhole will do that to you,” Jack deadpanned. 

Rose smothered a laugh, then addressed the woman. “I would say that there’s always hope. And I certainly wouldn’t be adverse to it.” She looked over at John with a tongue-touched smile. 

“Nor I.” He spoke into the microphone, but his eyes and smile were for her.

She turned back to the girl at the front of the line. “As for the rest of it...I’d have to say that there was at least a _little_ of real life bleeding through.”

“Maybe just a bit,” John conceded.

Jack interrupted. “They’re both brilliant actors, I’ve never worked with better. But they’re also more in love than any two people I’ve ever known. That’s kind of hard to hide.”

Rose blushed a bit and looked up at John. He grinned and shrugged, then bent down to steal another kiss. The crowd made raucous cheering noises, including several wolf-whistles.

Steven raised his mic. “Next? Yes?”

As the crowd quieted another girl, this one much younger, stepped up to the mic. The three actors said ‘hello’ to her with a smile. 

“Um, hi. I was just wondering, what is the best advice you’ve ever gotten?”

“On acting?” Rose asked.

The girl shrugged. “Sure, or just in general.”

Rose opened her mouth, contemplating for a minute, and finally answered: “I would have to say...my father told me that everyone you meet knows something that you don’t. Everyone has some kind of skill or knowledge that you don’t have, no matter who they are. The trick to truly being wise is to recognize that and to try to learn what they know that you need to learn.”

A little murmur of approval went through the crowd, and Steven asked, “John?”

“My grandfather told me not to give up on what I wanted; that if I wanted it bad enough, I should work my arse off to get it. It’s not always advice I’ve followed, sadly, but thankfully I’ve had people there to help me recognize when to fight for what I want and when to let it lie.” He gave Rose a warm look and she knew he was referring to her. Then he brought the mic back up. “I’ll give you a second bit of advice, too, and this came from Rose. She told me that people are going to say whatever they want to say and there’s nothing we can do to change their minds, really, so there's no point in worrying yourself over it.”

Steven spoke up. “I imagine that’s harder when you’re in the media spotlight.”

John nodded. “Yeah. That’s been a hard lesson to learn, with the tabloids printing all kinds of things about us all the time. But she’s right - even if I _do_ still let it get to me sometimes.”

“It’s hard to be the subject of those articles, written by people who don’t know John or me at all,” Rose volunteered. “They’ve never spent time with us, so they have no idea how we are together, what we talk about or do, what we are to each other. They see us out in public, snap a picture, then fill in whatever commentary they want. But it’s very rarely true.”

Jack jumped in again. “I can tell you that John and Rose are the happiest couple I’ve ever known. They feed off of each other, build each other up, and balance each other. John Noble is my best friend, and I’ve never seen him so happy.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, Jack.” Rose smiled at her friend.

“It’s true,” he assured her. “I’m privileged to be on the inside.” He gave the crowd a filthy grin. “Not on the _inside_ inside… They won’t even discuss that with me!”

“Jack...” John growled with a scowl that was somehow affectionate. Rose just laughed. 

“What about you, Jack? Ianto? What advice would you give?”

Ianto looked out onto the crowd. “It sounds trite, but my advice is basically the golden rule. Treat everyone you meet with respect, even if they don’t seem to deserve it. You’ll appreciate it when you’re at your lowest but someone is kind to you.”

There was a smattering of applause, and the panelist asked, “Jack?”

“Never trust a big butt and a smile.” Jack winked at the crowd, who howled with laughter. Rose giggled, and John just shook his head, smiling. 

“Well, I would say that’s sage advice for everyone,” Steven said. “Next, yes?”

“Um, yes...I love you guys, like, a _lot_ , but I really loved the character of Malory Prince, too. It’s been reported that she’s coming back next season. Is that true?”

“Martha?” Ianto asked. “Yes, Martha Jones is reprising the role of Malory Prince this year.”

“Fabulous!” Steven enthused. “She was a hit last year, even though she was only in a couple of episodes. Speaking of returning to the show, it’s also been reported that Harold Saxon has left the show?”

Rose felt John stiffen beside her, and she put her hand on his leg to soothe him. 

“That’s true,” Ianto commented. “Contract negotiations fell through.”

John leaned over to whisper into Rose’s ear: “Thank God.”

She just winked at him. 

“Rose, does that mean that Bridget will have a new love interest this season?”

She scrambled to find an answer. “I don’t know,” she lied. “I think Bridget is strong and capable on her own, and that she really doesn’t need a bloke to prove that. But you never know…” she trailed off, then asked the crowd “Do you think she needs one?”

The crowd cheered, chanting Asher’s name, and Rose laughed. Steven smiled indulgently then pointed towards the next person in the queue, a bloke dressed like Jack.

“Nice cosplay!” Jack volunteered.

“Thank you,” the young man said. “I was just wondering, what are your favorite shows to watch?”

The three of them looked at one another, and Jack turned around to ask, “You mean besides Alpha Epsilon?”

The crowd laughed, and the young man said ‘yeah’.

“Gee, I don’t know…” he started again. “I like American TV, being a yank and all, so I watch a lot of that. I especially like sitcoms, like The Big Bang Theory. And I’d just like to throw out there for Chuck Lorre - if you ever need a cameo…” The crowd laughed again, and he went on. “John and Rose think I have abysmal taste in television.”

“We do not,” John protested. “We just like what we like to watch better.”

“What’s that, then?” Steven asked.

“John is a big fan of The West Wing,” Rose supplied.

“Well, when Rose lets me have the remote…she hogs it terribly, Rose does...” he started, then made a little ‘oof’ sound when Rose elbowed him. “What?” he asked innocently.

“I do not _hog_ the remote, John Noble.”

“You do, too,” he asserted. “Right dominating with it, you are.”

Steven grinned at their antics. “The West Wing is one of my favorites, too. Who’s your favorite character?”

John seemed to consider him for a moment. “That’s a hard question, because they’re all so great. Brilliantly written and performed. I’d love to work with some of them someday, or work with Aaron Sorkin.”

“Maybe you will.”

“Maybe,” John grinned. “I’d have to say that most of the time, Toby is my favorite. He’s passionate about what he does, and even though he’s serious about it, too, there’s a lightness to him that shines through sometimes. When it does, it’s brilliant.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Jack mused.

John ignored him, then gave a mischievous grin. “Rose likes Josh.”

“I do,” she answered, sighing. “But doesn’t everyone?” The crowd cheered again, Rose grinned at John with her tongue in the corner of her mouth, then turned back to the young man in the crowd. “John and I don’t get to watch a ton of telly, what with our schedules, but when we do, we like some of the American superhero shows. Arrow, the Flash, Daredevil, Jessica Jones...shows like that.”

“We also like documentaries and cooking shows,” John volunteered. “Rose likes to watch Chopped and Iron Chef.”

“Are you a good cook?” Steven asked.

Rose shook her head. “John is a better cook than I am.”

“Well, I lived on my own for nearly fifteen years,” he defended. “Bachelors have to be able to feed themselves, or they’ll starve.” 

“But I’m learning,” Rose smiled at Steven, then looked over at John. “ _Someone_ has to keep you fed,” she teased him. “But seriously, we might turn the telly on for an hour or so when we’re winding down for the day, unless there’s a series we regularly watch. Other than that, both of us are more likely to be reading.”

“What do you like to read?” Steven prompted her.

“Anything, really,” she shrugged. “If it has pages, we’ll read it.”

The crowd laughed a little, and Steven called on the next person in the queue.

“Hi,” the young woman said, and she, too, was wearing an Alpha Epsilon shirt. “I was wondering...who’s the biggest troublemaker on set?”

Two thumbs and a forefinger pointed straight at Jack, who was pretending to look shocked and appalled through a huge grin. 

“Hey, you guys. I resemble that implication.”

“It's true, though,” John told the girl. “He’s a right old mischief-maker.”

“I resent the ‘old’ bit. And you’re just saying that because you’re the object of my pranks so often.”

“Well, that’s true,” Rose agreed and turned back to the girl with a smile. “Jack likes to try to make John laugh during takes. It’s his favorite thing in the world, I believe.”

“And I’m so _good_ at it,” Jack grinned. 

“He really is.” Rose giggled.

“What kinds of things do you do?” Steven asked. 

“Well, there was this one time when Gareth and Asher were staring each other down in a corridor, and Gareth gets the last word in. He turns to walk off, and John was supposed to look really angry.”

John laughed, as did Rose, both knowing where this was going.

Jack jumped up out of his seat. “So we do this scene, and nailed it. One take. It was really good. So as I’m turning to walk away, as soon as I was out of the frame, I turned around and did this.” He went up on tiptoe, bringing one leg up behind him, pointing his toe and snapping both fingers in a showtunes-like move with a goofy smile on his face. The crowd roared laughter.

“I lost it when he did that,” John admitted, laughing now. “They had to retake the shot of me looking angry, but every time I thought about it, I started laughing again. It took five takes.”

“Tell them about the time you got caught out naked and ran off set,” Ianto encouraged Jack. 

Jack sat back down and grinned at the crowd. “Oh, I wasn’t alone that time. That wasn’t entirely my fault, John was in on that, too.”

“It _was_ entirely your fault!” John laughed.

“It was not!” Jack sat up around Rose to look at him. “You were just as guilty as me!”

“But not as naked,” John shot back.

“No, not as naked,” Jack allowed. “I’d been messing with John, trying to get him to laugh during takes, and he wasn’t taking the bait. If he’d just laughed when I tried earlier, none of this would have happened. That’s how it’s all his fault.” 

“What did you do?” Steven asked.

Jack gave a roguish grin. “I stripped naked and got in his eyeline. Then I did a little dance.”

John, Rose, and Ianto were laughing, and John raised the back of his hand to swipe at one eye. “It was a rather crass dance, too,” he said between laughs.

Steven grinned at Ianto. “I thought you said they were professionals!”

“I may have misspoken,” Ianto replied dryly.

“So what did _you_ do?” Steven asked John.

“I did what any reasonable human being would do. I yelled and took off running after him. Ran right out of the frame.”

The crowd hooted and hollered.

Jack got to his feet to finish telling his outrageous story. “John is behind me - and he’s laughing now but he wasn’t happy then, let me tell you. So here I am, running, and we pass maintenance. They look at me like I’m the cause of this latest fiasco. And I’m like ‘no, no, it’s got nothing to do with me’, and John roars behind me, and oh my God, we were _running!_ We turned the corner and John stumbles into Rose. Rose looks at both of us and says…”

“I knew I should have turned left,” Rose supplied.

“That’s the line!” Jack, Rose, and John howled laughter, and Ianto chuckled.

“See what I have to deal with?” Rose asked the crowd between giggles.

“Sounds like you guys have a good time filming.”

“We do,” Rose said, wiping her eyes. “These guys are the best.”

“Sounds like it,” Steven agreed, then pointed to a young girl standing at the mic. Everyone gave her a warm smile and a hello.

“Hi...John and Jack, I know you both have a history of theater…”

“We do,” John concurred. “That's how we met, actually, on a production of Midsummer’s Night many years ago.”

“Not _that_ many,” Jack protested. “You're just determined to call me old today, aren't you?”

“What was your question?” Steven asked, getting them back on track.

“I was wondering which you prefer, theater or television?”

Jack and John looked at each other before Jack raised the mic to his mouth. 

“I don’t have a preference, really, although they’re completely different.”

“That they are,” John agreed. “I would say that working on a show is easier than a play, because if you blow a line in a show, you can just do the take over again.”

“Right, where in the theater, if you blow a line, that’s it. There are no do-overs, you just have to wait for the next night.”

John went on. “I like to do theater periodically, even though I enjoy TV. I think it hones my skills, makes me a better actor.”

“Plus, I don’t get to sing and dance on TV,” Jack grinned.

They thanked the young woman for the question, then looked to the next person in line expectantly.

“Yeah, hi...I was just wondering who your childhood heroes were?”

“Hugh Hefner,” Jack answered without hesitation. 

John cracked up again, shaking his head. Then he answered: “M’Dad was my hero. He never gave me any grief about wanting to be an actor: he left that to my mother. But he supported me and was a great role model to have as a kid.”

Rose patted his leg and he smiled at her. 

“How about you, Rose? Did you always want to be an actress?”

“I did, yeah,” she answered. “I used to put on little plays for all my plush animals. When I got older, my mum and dad enrolled me in drama school, and I did pretty well. I had a teacher there who really encouraged me. She made me watch all manner of films, not just what was interesting to me. That’s where I developed a crush on John.”

He whirled around to look at her. “You had a crush on me?”

Rose nodded, her tongue in the corner of her mouth. “I did. I saw you in that film you did - oh, what was the name of it? The period piece - and I thought, ‘Wow. He’s fit’. Mum gave me endless grief about fancying the villain.”

John looked incredulous. “I never knew that.” 

“It’s true. Ask Mum.”

He laughed. “I’m sure your mum would just jump on the chance to tell me about that. How I corrupted her daughter years before I met her.”

Rose just giggled. “S’why I was so keen to play the part of Bridget. I wanted to meet you.”

“That’s true, John,” Ianto volunteered, leaning forward. “She lobbied for the role of Bridget for weeks.”

"Glad I got it, too.” She smiled up at John, and smiled even brighter when he bent to kiss her, much to the delight of the audience.

“So you two had never met before you met on the set?” Steven probed. 

“Nope,” John said. “I’d seen her in other roles, of course, and knew she was a singer. But I’d never met her until we did our first read-through.”

“You were twice as handsome as I always thought,” Rose cooed up at him. John snorted. 

Jack spoke up. “There was something between them that first day, I swear there was. But it took months for John to pull his head out of his -”

“Oi!” John stopped him.

“Well, it’s true.”

Steven pointed to a young man at the front of the queue. 

“Hi...my question’s for John.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve always tended to get typecast as the villain. Does that bother you?”

“No,” he said after a pause to gather his thoughts, “it doesn’t really bother me. I knew early on that I’d be cast in roles like that with this daft old face -”

“Oi!” Rose protested. “I love your daft old face!”

He smiled down at her. “I know you do, love, but it’s not exactly the face of the dashing hero, now is it?”

Rose gave him a mildly annoyed look, a sentiment that was echoed by a smattering of protests from the audience. John ignored them.

“So no, I wouldn’t say that it bothers me,” John went on. “I don’t mind playing the bad guy, not really. Someone has to do it, and I actually really like playing villains who aren’t two-dimensional. There are a lot of layers to Asher, a lot to sink my teeth into. He’s not just a typical bad guy seeking world domination. There’s a purpose behind everything Asher does - even if it’s not a good purpose. But to answer your question, no, I don’t have any problem with the roles I get, I’m grateful for them.. Keeps a roof over me head and food in me belly. But who knows? Maybe I’ll land the role of a happy bloke sometime. I’d enjoy that quite a lot, I think.”

“John really is an easy-going guy,” Jack piped up. “He’s not what he’s made out to be. He’s less ‘Oncoming Storm’ and more ‘Oncoming Sunshine’.” He gave John a cheeky look, and Rose stepped in before John could take the bait. 

“He really is much more pleasant than the tabloids and rumors would have you believe.”

“Have been since you came along, love.”

Rose couldn’t help it, she craned her neck up for another sweet kiss. 

Steven pointed to the next woman standing next to the mic, who had a small child on her hip. Rose smiled down at them. “Hello!”

“My daughter has a question for you, Rose.”

John squeezed her hand and Rose gave her a glowing smile. “Hi there, sweetheart.”

The little girl looked shy, laying her head on her mother’s shoulder and speaking softly. “Hi… I wanted to ask, were you scared when the robots took you and were gonna kill you?”

The crowd ‘aww’d. 

Rose leaned forward a bit, putting her elbows on her knees. “I was a _little_ scared, but not very bad. Do you know why?” The little girl shook her head. “Because I knew that Asher and Gareth were going to save me. They’re heroes.” 

The crowd clapped a little and Jack said, with a softness that most people weren’t privy to, “Were you scared of the robots?”

“Yes,” the little girl nodded.

“Don’t be,” John assured her. “We took care of them, so they’ll never bother you, love.”

“That’s right,” Jack agreed. “You never have to worry about scary robots. Gareth and Asher will get rid of them for you.”

The crowd applauded, and Rose looked at Steven before she asked, “Are we allowed to take a picture with her?”

He shrugged. “Sure, if that’s what you want.” 

“Is that alright with you?” Rose asked the girl’s mother.

“Sure!” 

Security escorted the girl and her mother down to the stage, and all three of the actors posed with them, and even though the little girl refused to take her finger out of her mouth, she was smiling brightly. Rose gave the girl a hug and kiss on the forehead before they were escorted back to their seats.

“Yes?” Steven addressed the young woman at the mic.

“Hi, I’m studying to be an actor…”

“Good for you!” John encouraged.

“I was wondering...what do you guys do on the set between takes?”

Rose and John both raised their mics, but Jack smirked and spoke before they got a chance. “They dance.”

“They _dance_?” Steven asked incredulously. 

“That’s true,” Ianto spoke up, again before John or Rose could say anything. “About half the time, when one of us yells ‘cut’, John will just sweep Rose into his arms and dance with her.”

“S’not really _dancing,_ ” John broke in. “Two left feet, me.”

“That’s not true,” Rose said affectionately. “He’s not got two left feet. But it’s more romantic when he just sways me back and forth.”

“They’ve been doing it since early in series one,” Ianto supplied. 

Jack grinned at the two of them, then looked back at the girl asking the question. “John claimed at the time that he was doing it to build camaraderie. I think it’s pretty clear that he was wooing her.”

“I was not wooing her!” John protested.

“Well, whatever it was you were trying to do, it worked,” Rose joked.

“Okay. Maybe I _was_ trying to woo her a bit.”

The crowd laughed.

“We have time for one more question,” Steven said, then pointed at the crowd. A woman a little older than Rose stepped to the mic.

“Hello.” Rose smiled. 

“Hi,” the woman returned. “My question is for all three of you...is it hard to co-lead a show?”

Rose pursed her lips and shook her head, looking to John and Jack for confirmation. Both of them were shaking their heads, as well. 

“No,” Jack answered. “It’s not - not on Alpha Epsilon, anyway. I’ve been on shows where it was a constant fight for the spotlight, but that’s not the case here. The three of us work together so well that it’s a bit seamless. Naked foot races notwithstanding.” 

Rose and John nodded agreement, chuckling, and Rose spoke up. “This was my first major role; I’d only played very minor parts in other series before. As much as I’d wanted the part, I was intimidated when I got it, because John and Jack were so much more experienced than me. But they treated me as an equal from day one, and I couldn’t ask for a better team to work with.”

“There’s plenty of spotlight to go around,” John added. “None of us need to crowd the other out. I think we’re all just happy to be working with friends. I know I’ll stay on the show as long as they’ll keep me.”

Rose and Jack nodded and smiled. 

“So there will be a season three of Alpha Epsilon?”

Ianto leaned forward. “The BBC has approved a third series. So yes, there’ll be a third series, and we’ll just have to play it by ear from there.”

“Well, we can’t ask for more than that,” Steven said. “Everyone give it up for Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, and Rose and John Noble!”

The crowd went wild and the four of them got to their feet, taking a bow and waving. 

John leaned over to whisper in Rose’s ear. “Did you hear that? ‘Rose and John Noble’.”

She just gave him a tongue-touched grin. “As it should be.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Caedmon  
> Beta'd by Untempered Schism, Develish1 and Tenroseforeverandever
> 
> Thank you, ladies!

The line for photos with the three of them had been astoundingly long, and John was still a little mind-blown by the number of people who had wanted to have their pictures taken with the cast of Alpha Epsilon. He’d smiled dutifully in all of them, except when he was called upon by a fan, Jack, or his wife to make some ridiculous pose - which happened more than he’d expected. All in all, the experience was quite fun, even if it took much longer than he’d expected. It was more tiring than he had thought it would be...the fans were rushed through and there was no time to speak to anyone, simply smile (or make the other requested face) for the camera and then the fans moved on.

After the photos were done, the three were given a short (and much-needed) break to eat a late lunch, then escorted to a long table to sign autographs. The line for their autographs was even longer than the photo line, and John looked at it a bit wearily before he sat down and smiled at the first person to come across the table. 

People brought all sorts of things to be signed, and John was shocked when some of the people handed them gifts. Rose seemed less surprised, and Jack seemed to take it completely in stride. At one point while John was signing something, Rose started swatting at his arm, trying to get his attention. 

“John. John, look at this.”

The young woman standing in front of them had presented Rose with a pencil drawing of the two of them dressed as Bridget and Asher. Asher had his hands on Bridget’s waist and was bent as if to whisper into her ear. Bridget’s eyes were closed in an expression he’d seen Rose make many times, but rarely outside of private moments. It was an exceptionally good bit of art, and John was impressed. 

“Fantastic!” he told the young woman. “You drew this yourself?”

The girl nodded. “Freehand?” asked Rose. The girl nodded again. “Did you sign it?” Another nod.

“S’a wedding gift,” the girl almost whispered.

“John,” Rose said, turning her head towards him. “I think we need to hang this in the loft.”

“I agree,” he nodded. “That’s too good not to put on display.”

The young artist’s eyes filled with tears, and Rose stood up to lean over the table. She hugged the girl and thanked her. John followed suit. 

They went on like this, smiling and signing, fielding the occasional question; several were repeats from the panel. They answered the questions quickly but patiently and with as much good humor as could be summoned towards the end of such a long day. Rose had been right - there were several people dressed as Asher - one even wearing the ceremonial garb that he’d donned in just a couple of scenes of one episode. He was amazed by the level of detail in the costumes - the people had obviously taken great care to replicate the costumes as well as they could.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when someone approached them wearing a replication of the dress Rose had worn in the episode with the ghosts. It was very well-done, though not exact, John flashed back to the image of his wife wearing an ivory version of the gown just two days before...and of course, later taking the gown off her.

“You look great!” Rose enthused to the young woman, popping the bubble of his little daydream, and John nodded in agreement. 

Once the woman had passed, however, John leaned over and whispered, “Didn’t look nearly as good as you, love.”

“Flatterer.”

“Truth-teller.”

Rose giggled a little and gave him a quick kiss before she turned to the next person in the line.

There were two children dressed like Bridget, and Rose stopped the line both times so she could take a picture with the little girls. Jack had also stopped the line once to take a photo with a young Gareth cosplayer.

One young woman approached and handed over a stock photo to be signed. She looked from Rose to John and back again as Rose signed, then blurted out, “Will you two be having kids?”

Rose looked up at her with wide eyes, and John’s breath caught, leading him to cough. 

“Not yet,” she answered smoothly. “We thought we should be married at least a week before we talked about it.”

John nodded, playing along. “A week, yeah. Maybe two on the outside.”

Rose gave him a tongue-touched smile and he felt his heart flip, again imagining her belly distended, full of their baby... 

“But seriously,” Rose answered the young woman, breaking him out of his reverie. “We haven’t talked about it yet. Our schedules aren’t exactly conducive to family life.”

“But we’re not ruling it out,” John interjected, earning a sidelong look from Rose. “Thank you!”

When the girl was out of earshot, Rose asked him in a low voice, “We’re not ruling it out?”

“I hope not,” he answered her. “I’d like kids someday. Before Grandad is too old to enjoy them. You don’t want kids?”

“It’s not something I ever really thought about,” she answered thoughtfully. “I’m not opposed to the idea, though.” John’s heart stuttered in his chest and he gave her a brilliant smile. She looked back at the crowd of people lined up to talk to them. “Can we talk about it later?” she asked. 

“Of course,” he said, then leaned over to kiss her. A couple of people in the line said “aww”, and they smiled sheepishly at their audience.

~*~O~*~

The day was done - _finally_ \- and John was very much looking forward to taking his wife to the airport the next morning for her surprise honeymoon. He’d made arrangements with Ianto and Neal to secure them a few extra days: the filming would continue when they returned, and they’d agreed to keep the secret from Rose. John had planned for three days and nights in Napa Valley, sampling wines and taking in the sights before they had to fly back to Cardiff. It wasn’t much - he’d have preferred to whisk her away to some exotic location and never let her leave the room - but they’d have to wait until after filming was done to go on the honeymoon of her dreams. 

That didn’t mean he’d be letting her leave the room much while they were in Napa, however.

Donna caught Rose’s attention when they came backstage from the autograph signing, all of them cracking their backs and stretching after sitting for such a long time. John walked with her over to his sister. 

“Rose, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve set up a meeting with a director for you. He approached me thinking I was your manager. It seems he has a role he wants you to audition for.”

“Who is it?”

“Zachary Cross Flane,” Donna answered. 

Rose gasped in shock. “But he does huge blockbusters! What does he want with _me_?”

Donna smirked at her sister-in-law a little. “It would seem he wants to do a huge blockbuster with _you_.”

“That’s insane! I’ve never done films at all, much less a multi-million dollar blockbuster! Why on Earth would he want me?”

John could hear her panic and put his arm around her shoulders to soothe her. “Shh, love. He wants you because you’re fantastic. That’s why.”

Rose turned back to Donna. “What did he say?”

“He’s doing a film, a superhero type thing, I think, and he wants you to audition.” 

“Audition for what?”

Donna gave her a smile. “The female lead.”

Rose looked up at John, dumbstruck, and he beamed down at her. “But this is fantastic, Rose! This would be a huge break for you!” He swept her into a hug, which she returned with a little less exuberance. 

She still looked gobsmacked when he released her and she turned back to Donna. “You’re sure he meant _me_? What kind of superhero film? Would I be able to film around the schedule I already have?”

The ginger woman laughed. “I don’t know what kind of superhero film, and I don’t know about the scheduling, but you’re contracted to Alpha Epsilon, so he’d have to work around you, not the other way around. And yes, he definitely meant you... although he called you Rose Tyler at first. An easy enough mistake to make: you’ve only been married two days.”

Rose turned to John with wide, questioning eyes. He just smiled at the shock and uncertainty in them, knowing what she was thinking. “You can do this, love. You’ll make a fantastic superheroine.”

“He wants to meet with you before you leave the con,” Donna told her. “Tomorrow morning, actually, before your flight. I hope you don’t mind me setting up the meeting.”

Rose waved her hand. “No, no, of course not,” she assured her sister-in-law. John winced a bit: he really hoped this meeting didn’t get in the way of their planned escape to Napa. 

“I’ll stand in as your agent since Clara isn’t here,” Donna continued. “I think you know I only have your best interests at heart.”

“Of course I do. I trust you implicitly. What about John?”

“John can come, too. He’s your husband, after all. Nobody will think anything of it.”

“I guess…” she paused for a second. “I guess I’ll be meeting with Zachary Cross Flane tomorrow morning, then.”

~*~O~*~

Once Rose was (finally) ready, the two made their way down to the hotel’s restaurant to meet Donna and the director. Rose kept her hand in his the entire way, palms together, fingers entwined. He could feel the tension radiating off of her, and before the lift doors opened, he squeezed her hand and kissed her forehead. 

“Remember, this is just a meeting.”

“Just a meeting with a blockbuster director. This isn’t Ianto.”

“No, it’s not. But it’ll be brilliant. You’ll see.”

They stepped out of the lift and walked, hand in hand, towards the hotel’s restaurant. John pulled her to a stop at the entryway to scan the crowd for his sister and the director. Donna spotted them and waved. John waved in acknowledgement with the hand that wasn’t grasping Rose’s, and the two of them went to have a seat at the table. Zachary Cross Flane stood with a hand extended. 

“Rose, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting. I’m Zachary Cross Flane.”

Rose took his hand, shaking it but not letting go of John’s. “Rose Ty-Noble.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, still getting used to the name change. It’s only been three days.”

“Quite understandable,” Flane assured her, then turned to John. “And here’s the groom!”

John grinned, the way he always did when something reminded him that Rose was his wife. “John Noble, Mr. Flane. A pleasure to meet you, I enjoy your work.”

Flane waved a hand as he took his seat again, and John held out Rose’s chair. “Please, call me Zachary, or Zack. I’m a big fan of Alpha Epsilon, and was excited to hear that you lot were coming to Comic Con.”

“We were excited, too,” Rose volunteered, surprising John a little that she was willing to talk just yet. She didn’t seem nervous at all, instead she came off as confident and sure of herself. He marveled - yet again - at her acting skill. “I’ve never been to California before. It’s beautiful here, what I’ve seen of it.”

“It’s very nice,” Zachary agreed. “I’ve lived here for fifteen years now, and it seems like home - I certainly don’t miss the rain in Britain!” All four of them laughed at his little joke.

As soon as they sat, Rose’s hand was gripped tight around John’s under the table. He rubbed his thumb over her fingers in reassurance. 

The waiter came to the table, bringing glasses of orange juice and water, then taking their order. Once the menus were handed back, they all turned back to the table. John wasn’t sure where the conversation would begin, and a sideways look at Rose showed that her face was face was tight - although he was sure nobody at the table would recognize the signs of her tension besides him and possibly Donna.

“First of all,” Zachary started, “as I mentioned, I’m a huge fan of the show. I started watching on BBC America and missed the pilot, but haven’t missed an episode since. Brilliant. You’re both wonderful.”

John and Rose thanked him appropriately, and he continued. “So, Rose, I’m sure you’ve been told why I want to meet with you.”

“I heard that you’re making a superhero movie, and you wanted me to audition for a part.”

“Close enough,” he said around a sip of orange juice. “This film has been highly anticipated and lobbied for online. There were at least two petitions for it that I know of, each with thousands and thousands of signatures. Probably more.”

Rose laughed a little, and John heard the breathy quality to it. “You’re not helping my nerves, Zachary,” she complained with a smile, not seeming nervous at all.

“No need to be anxious.” He smiled at her. “I promise. The studio finally caved to the pressure and added this film to the lineup for this universe. It has the full backing and support of the studio, and the budget is only slightly less because there won’t be as much CGI.”

“What’s it about?”

“The two lead characters - male and female, Barton and Romanov - are spies...agents for a secret government operation called SHIELD. You would, of course, be playing Agent Romanov.”

John was intrigued and Rose looked to be, too. 

Zachary launched into the backstory. “Originally, she was a spy and operative for a Russian organization - an offshoot of the KGB. Barton was sent to kill her, but he made a different call once in the field and faced with the reality of killing her. He spared her life and brought her into SHIELD. She was deprogrammed, integrated into the agency, and the two of them are paired up as partners. They’re very well-matched; a well-oiled machine. Romanov - the character you’d be playing - is an expert in weaponry, hand-to-hand combat, interrogation, disguise, and espionage.”

“Wow,” Rose breathed. “She sounds…impressive.”

“She is. There are lots of stunts involved,” Zachary warned, “and you’re welcome to do most of them yourself, but insurance will prohibit you from doing them. You will have to have your stunt double do some of them. You’re welcome, of course, to use a stunt double for any of the other stunts you don’t want to do.” 

“I think I would enjoy the stunts.” John wasn’t surprised to hear this: Rose rarely brought in a double for the stunts required by the show, preferring to do her own work. 

“There is a romantic subplot, but it’s fairly subtle. It’s very clear that Barton and Romanov love each other deeply, but there aren’t any overt sex scenes. The studio requires that we keep it to a PG-13 rating. There is a kiss, however.”

John did his best to stamp down the little flare of jealousy. He and Rose were professionals. They were going to be required to kiss other people - and likely often, especially in Rose’s case. 

It didn’t matter. He knew where her heart lay, as difficult as it was for him to comprehend sometimes.

Zachary broke into his thoughts. “Does this sound like something you’d be interested in?” 

“What about my accent? I’d have to learn a Russian accent -”

Flane cut her off with a shake of the head. “Natasha Romanov has an American accent, since she’s been working for a government agency for many years. She’s a master of disguise. We’ll get a coach so you can learn an American accent if you don’t already have one, that’s no problem, and there will be a consultant to help you with the Russian you’d have to speak - which wouldn’t be much.”

Rose looked at John, and he could see the excitement in her eyes. He couldn’t help but feel the same sense of excitement when he thought of his wife taking a lead role in a blockbuster...it was a dream come true for any actor. He gave her a little nod. 

“Yeah,” she smiled at John, then over at Zachary Cross Flane. “I think I would be interested in this.” John squeezed her hand. “When do you want me to audition?”

“You just did,” Zachary said, leaning back in his chair and grinning. “I’m not here to set up an audition, I’m here to offer you the part.”

Rose’s hand went limp with shock inside John’s, and her mouth hung open. He squeezed her hand to get her attention and snap her out of it.

Donna leaned forward, going into agent/manager mode. “There are some details that will have to be worked out. Salary, riders, and Rose’s filming schedule for Alpha Epsilon. All that and other assorted issues. She’s contracted to Alpha Epsilon for the next ten weeks, and then for five months of next year.”

“We can work around that,” Zachary said with a dismissive wave. “Filming will start for Budapest - that’s the name of the film - in late October, so that should be plenty of time after she wraps Alpha Epsilon. That won’t be a problem at all. The film is set for a November release next year. We’ll need you to do a press tour and a junket, naturally, and that will be included in your contract.” He took another sip of his juice. “So what do you say, Mrs. Noble?”

John felt another burst of pride upon hearing Rose called by his name, but he disregarded it for the moment. Right now, his focus needed to be on his wife. 

Rose seemed have regained some of her poise. “It sounds like a tremendous project, and I think I’d like to be a part. I will need to speak with my manager, Clara, though. When do you need me to get back to you?”

“End of the week is the deadline. I have another actress lined up to play Romanov if you’re not interested, but I’ll need time to talk to her if you won’t do it. And to be honest, I really want _you_ for the part.”

Rose nodded a little. “As I said, I’ll have to speak with Clara, but I think…” She paused for a second. “I think I’d really like to join your project, Mr. Flane.”

“Excellent! That’s just what I wanted to hear. And please, call me Zachary. You and I are going to get to know each other quite well.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Caedmon  
> Beta'd by Untempered Schism, Develish1 and tenroseforeverandever

“Good God, it’s hot as hell out here,” John complained as they walked out of the hotel toward the rented car. 

“It’s not so bad,” Rose patted his arm lovingly. “The car has a/c, I’m sure. And it’s nowhere near as hot as Greece.” 

“Greece was hot as hell, too,” he grumbled, and Rose laughed as she slid into the car via the door he held open for her. John walked around to the other side of the car and slid into the driver’s seat. He looked down at the steering column, mumbling about Yanks having everything backwards and set the satnav while Rose settled in. Once she was buckled, he pulled out of the parking spot and exited the garage. They chatted pleasantly, Rose’s hand resting in his, until they got to the interstate heading towards the airport. He waited for her to bring up the meeting they’d just left, but she didn’t seem ready to talk about it just yet.

“Comic Con was fun!” Rose enthused. 

“It was. Certainly different than I’d been expecting.” 

“All those fans...I mean, I knew that Alpha Epsilon was really popular in Britain, and Ianto had said that it had gained a following in the US, but I was shocked by all the people there. I never would have dreamed there would be that many.”

“It’s because of you, love,” he said fondly, squeezing her hand.

Rose scoffed. “That can’t be true.”

“Nothing I’ve ever been in has taken off in the US, not really. That one film was a big hit, but I was the villain,” he explained. “Jack hasn’t been in a ton of American films, either, even though he’s a Yank. It must be you.”

“No, it’s just because the three of us - me, you, and Jack - have been working on a superb show created by a superb showrunner. None of us are exactly stealing the show. We’re all good in these roles.” She thought for a minute, then went on. “It was a perfect storm, really. If anything had been different, it wouldn’t be the hit it is.”

John couldn’t disagree with that, so he just smiled at her. “I still think you were the catalyst.”

“You’re biased,” she teased him.

“That I am, Rose Noble.”

“Rose Noble,” she murmured, then sighed, leaning her head back against the seat rest. “I can’t believe you actually married me.”

“You think _you_ can’t believe it!” he laughed. “I’m in awe that you’re my wife!”

“I am, though,” she confirmed, covering his hand on the gearshift. He used his finger to trap hers there. “And now you’re taking me on a honeymoon!”

“That I am,” he agreed. “I’m sorry, it’s not at all what you deserve. You deserve weeks away at glorious tropical locations - where I could keep you in a swimsuit whenever I let you leave the room.” He gave her a lascivious smile. 

“You randy old sod,” she laughed at him, and he chuckled with her.

“ _Your_ randy old sod.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “I still wish I’d been able to take you somewhere more grand, though.”

“It’s lovely,” she smiled over at him, and he turned his head just enough to catch her smile. “I couldn’t ask for anything better. Besides, we spent _weeks_ travelling before the show started filming. We can just look back on that as a pre-honeymoon.”

“When the show wraps, we’ll go away for a couple of weeks, maybe a month or so. However long we have until you start filming here in the States.”

“Not long after we finish this series of Alpha Epsilon.” She sighed. “That’s something else I can’t believe.”

“That we’re doing series two of Alpha Epsilon?” he joked.

“No, that I’m going to have a starring role in a blockbuster American film.”

“I can,” he told her. “You’ll be brilliant in a starring role, and even more amazing as a superheroine. It’ll give you a chance to use all that self-defense training you’ve done.”

Rose looked pensive for a moment. “It just occured to me that I’ll probably have to do more fight training, as well as learn an American accent.”

“Jack can help you with the accent a bit, and Flane has already said he would hire a coach. As for the stunts… You’re the toughest woman I know. You can handle it. No problem.”

“I just hate that we won’t be able to travel over the hiatus the way we did on the last one.”

“Los Angeles will be exotic enough for me, ta, love. As long as I’m there with you. I can do all the touristy things, maybe snag some guest appearances on American telly.” 

“Filming could take months. Possibly the whole hiatus.”

“And it probably will,” he agreed. “But I’ll be there to scare off the pretty boys who’ll inevitably be hanging around and ogling you.”

Rose giggled. “You’ll show them your Oncoming Storm face?”

“Damned right I will.” Rose laughed again, and he couldn’t help but smile at her. “But seriously. I’ll see the sights while you’re filming, and be there when you get home at night.”

“You’d do that for me?”

John squeezed her fingers before releasing it so that he could turn into the airport. “I’d do anything for you, love.”

~*~O~*~

Rose wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when he’d told her they were going to Napa Valley, but she was unprepared for the neat rows of grapevine as far as the eye could see, seeming to stretch all the way to the mountains in the distance. She looked out of the window as they passed through the fields on the way to the bed and breakfast John had booked them into, watching the vines pass her in a blur. 

They pulled up at the bed and breakfast, and she was surprised by how small it was. It looked more like a house than a hotel, but she liked it. It was more cozy somehow.

Hopping out of the car they’d rented at the airport, John went around to the boot to grab their light luggage. Rose smiled at him when he came back around. 

“Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”

“Oh, John,” she cooed. “It’s gorgeous. Like something out of a story.”

“Not too small, then?”

“Not too small, not too big. It’s just right.”

“Fantastic. Only the best for my Goldilocks.” Rose grinned at him. “Let’s go in and get settled.”

The check-in process was expedited, since John had already made the necessary arrangements before they got there. Rose walked around the large room while John handled the last minute arrangements, looking at the photographs on the wall. Men with their pants legs rolled up, standing in barrels with squashed grapes and grape juice up to their knees, views of the countryside, signed photos of famous people who had stayed there before. 

“You ready to go?” John asked at her shoulder, and Rose nodded, a bright smile on her face. 

A young man helped bring up their luggage, and John gave him a tip before he closed the door. Rose had gone to the window to take in the frankly magnificent view, but squawked a little when John’s arms circled her waist and he tugged her towards the bed. 

The squawk turned to a giggle when he tossed her down and started crawling over her, a predatory smirk on his face. 

“Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve had you?” he growled as she scooted back, keeping herself just out of his reach. 

“Well,” she said, coy, “we made love twice last night, but that made us almost miss our wake-up call, and we didn’t have time this morning. So I guess….” She pretended to think. “I’d say it’s been -”

“Too long,” he said, nipping at her neck. “It’s been too long.”

“You’re insatiable,” she giggled.

“You’re irresistible,” he retorted, dragging his lips down her neck even as he covered her with his body. Rose welcomed the weight, she always did, and reveled in the feel of his erection pressing against her, right where she needed it, right where it would be soon.

“We’re a bit overdressed for this, don’t you think?” she breathed as he nipped at her shoulder.

“Don’t worry about that, love. I’ll be getting you naked soon enough.”

“I wasn’t talking about me.” She carded her fingers through his hair. “I want to feel _you_.”

She felt him smile against her throat, underneath her jaw. “You’re going to feel me, alright.” He rutted against her, his cock pressing against her clit even through the layers of clothes, and she gasped. “You’ll feel every.” He ground his hips into her. “Last.” Another push of his hips, and Rose’s breath caught when his cock slid against her still-clothed clit. “Inch of me.”

“Mmm...can’t wait.”

“But you’ll have to wait,” he told her, sliding his hands down her sides, then bunching the hem of her shirt in his hands. “You see, I have plans, Mrs. Noble.”

“And what plans might those be, Mr. Noble?” 

He tugged her shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the side haphazardly. “I plan to make you come at least twice before I bury myself in you.”

“Twice?”

“At least,” he reassured her. “And then I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”

Rose shivered at the promise in his voice, knowing all too well that he could - and would - do exactly what he promised.

She arched her back as he explored the top of her chest with his lips and tongue, and he took advantage of the separation between her back and the bed to unclasp her bra, tugging it away from where it covered her breasts and tossing it in the same general direction her shirt had gone. His mouth closed over one nipple, suckling and nipping with his teeth, making the already-peaked flesh even more taut. She threaded her fingers through his hair and did her best to get a handhold.

“Well, I have plans for you, too.”

“What’re those, if I may ask?” he queried as he kissed his way to her other breast, and Rose tightened her hold when he ringed her areola with his tongue. She pulled his head up to her level and kissed his mouth, his cheek, and then his beloved ear before she whispered: “I’m going to wrap my lips around your cock, and I’m going to suck you until you come in my mouth. I’m going to drink you all up and then when I’m done, I’m going to ride you until you come again.”

John shuddered on top of her, and his hips rolled against hers almost involuntarily. “Filthy promises, Mrs. Noble. Are you sure you can deliver?”

Rose flipped him off of her onto his back and scrambled to straddle him, bringing her heat to hover just above where he was hard for her. “Oh, yes,” she promised, even as his hands came up to caress her breasts. “I’m going to deliver. And you’re going to love it.”

“You sound rather sure of yourself.”

She slid back down his legs until the button and zip of his trousers were exposed, and she set to work opening them. “I am sure of myself.” She made impatient tugging motions at his shirt until he sat up a bit and pulled it off, baring his golden skin to her gaze and touch. Rose abandoned the attempt to free him for just a moment, putting her hands and then her mouth on the broad expanse of his chest. She wrote her name down his abdomen with her tongue while her hands went back to their original job, swirling the letters where she could, marking what was already hers - just so there would be no doubt. 

John groaned under her and came up on his elbows as she made her way down...circling his navel then kissing her way down the line of hair that began there and ended where she _really_ wanted to be. She reached the waistband of his trousers just as she managed to get the zipper down and with sure motions, she pulled them down, along with his pants, just this side of rough. 

His cock sprang free, bobbing in front of her, and she caught it in her mouth with the surety of a woman who knew her property. Once she had his pants down his thighs, she brought her hand up to circle him where her mouth couldn’t reach and started bobbing. John groaned, leaning his head back and swearing under his breath. 

“Fuck, Rose… _fuck_...”

She removed her mouth long enough to smirk up at him, even while she still pumped him with her fist. “Problem?”

“No...keep...keep doing that.”

Rose didn’t answer, she just ducked her head back down and opened her mouth, taking him as deep as she could get him before she closed her mouth and sucked, hard. John’s hips shot off the mattress and he pleaded with her incoherently. She fucked him with her mouth as he swore and begged, intensifying her assault when he put his hands in her hair to guide her. 

“Jesus, Rose...I can’t...I’m gonna…”

She sucked harder and took him deeper, so that the tip of his cock was nudging the back of her throat, and swallowed around him. He made a noise that she was certain he’d later deny, so she did it again. He yelped this time. 

“Too fast, Rose… You have to stop… I’m gonna come too fast…I’m close - _fuck_ that’s good...I’m close...”

In response, she brought one hand up to his balls to fondle and roll them, and hummed around him.

He came with a shout of her name, fisting her hair and emptying himself into her mouth and down her throat, panting and pleading as she swallowed his seed. When she was done, she placed a kiss on the head of his softening cock and took a moment to scoot down his legs, pulling his shoes and socks off before tugging his pants and trousers away, leaving him naked. 

As soon as his legs were free of the offending garments, he sat up like a shot and grabbed her under the arms, making her squeal, and pulled her back up to her original place so that he could roll on top of her and hold her in place.

He dipped his head to kiss her, his tongue swirling around hers, and she knew that he could taste himself on her. That would have turned off most men, but John reveled in it; he said that he liked being reminded that she was his, all his.

“That was very naughty, Rose.”

“I’m not remotely sorry, John,” she grinned up at him. 

“Well, if you’re unrepentant, there’s only one thing I can do.”

“Oh?”

He nuzzled her neck and Rose tilted her head to the side to grant him the access he sought. “Oh, yes. If you’re so very naughty and have no remorse, then the only thing to do is to punish you.”

She felt a thrill rush all the way down her body. “You would do that to me?”

“With pleasure,” he assured her. “Take off your denims and I’ll show you.”

~*~O~*~

Rose lay naked and writhing before him, her hips rolling while she made inarticulate sounds that bore no relation to language. She plucked and pulled at her own nipples, since his hands were otherwise engaged, and the sight caused him to grind his hips down onto the bedspread, seeking some relief for his raging erection before he closed his eyes and went back to his work. 

“John,” she moaned when he circled her clit with his tongue.

He raised his head, still thrusting his fingers in and out, curling them to drag them against the ridged place inside her when he pulled them out, driving her mad. “Yes, love?”

“More...please more…”

“More what?”

“More...you…”

“You mean like this?” He plunged his fingers inside of her harder and faster, eliciting a gasp and a moan from her. “Or you mean like this?” He lowered his head to couple the motions with flicking little motions of his tongue on her clit.

Rose cried out, arching her back, and he pushed her hips back down, not letting up on her. She went back to pleading incoherently, and he decided that she’d had enough. He pressed his fingers to that spot inside her at the same time he suckled her clit, and she screamed her pleasure, bucking wildly. He pulled his fingers out and put that hand on her hip as well, holding her down while he brought her down slowly by devouring her, licking her all over and lapping up her juices.

When she began to recoil from his ministrations, he planted one more soft kiss to her clit, making her jerk, then kissed her thigh and brought himself up on his hands and knees. He crawled up the length of her body, turning his head to wipe his mouth on his arm, then lowering his head to kiss her gently. 

“John,” she breathed when he pulled away, lying beside her and pulling her into his arms. “John…”

“What is it, precious girl?”

“I just…” She broke off, seemingly unable to continue.

“Shh…” he hushed her. Stroking her back gently. “S’alright, love. Just rest.”

He held her like that for a while, caressing her soft skin and placing the occasional kiss on her forehead, willing his own erection to go away. He’d just given her two orgasms, and he knew she needed to relax for a few minutes. His Rose could take a lot, could go all night if they wanted, but after the intensity of those two, he didn’t want to push her. Besides, as much as he loved making love to his wife, his favorite thing to do in the entire multiverse was to hold her close and feel her heartbeat against his. 

Her breathing and heart rate slowed over a few minutes, and she relaxed a bit more in his arms. “I love you,” she murmured.

He smiled against her hair. Hearing that never got old, and he knew he’d cherish those three words from her for the rest of the life. “I love you, too, precious girl.”

She made a happy little mewling sound into his chest, shifting her body against his. “We’re not done, are we?” she asked.

“Are if you want to be.”

“I don’t want to be, but I’d like a few minutes to catch my breath. I believe you promised to fuck me until I screamed.”

John gave a lopsided grin, even if she couldn’t see it. “Seem to be breathing fine to me.” She swatted at his shoulder without looking, and he chuckled. “It’s fine, love. We’ve got three days and nights. There’s plenty of time.”

She relaxed into him with a sigh. “Good.”

John held her, savoring the calm and quiet. Their lives had been non-stop madness over the last week: since they started packing for the wedding and Comic Con, it seemed like they’d been in constant motion. John had never done ‘idle’ well - he preferred being active and busy - but after the hectic schedule of the last week, he was grateful for a little downtime. Downtime with his wife. 

_His wife._

He still couldn’t believe it, and were it not for the ring on his finger, he’d have believed all of it to be some type of elaborate dream. A wonderful dream, to be sure, but still - just a dream. He spun the ring around his finger now, idly, pondering his good fortune. 

When he was a young man, marriage had been the furthest thing from his mind. As he’d gotten older and more comfortable - financially, career-wise and in his own skin - he’d started to think of the possibility of a home and family. A wife to come home to, children to chase. But as the years ticked by with no prospects on the horizon, he’d all but given up on that idea and resigned himself to being a confirmed bachelor. 

Then Rose Tyler had dropped into his life, and he’d found himself arse-over-teakettle in love with a woman fifteen years his junior. 

John thought back now to the first time he’d held her like this, the first time they’d made love in her trailer. He’d told her that their future looked bright and happy, far beyond what the rest of the world called ‘love’. Immediately after saying it, he’d kicked himself. She may not have wanted a forever with him - in fact, it was likely that she didn’t - and he’d gone and blurted his heart’s most secret, most fervent desire out to her. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d run like hell, and he wouldn’t have blamed her, either. 

But she hadn’t. She’d stayed, and he was still in awe. He tried not to question his luck every time he rolled over in the morning and she was there. But he was amazed nonetheless. 

Rose stirred against him, and he turned his head to kiss her hair. 

He spoke the truest words he knew against the top of her head. “I love you, Rose.”

She sighed happily. “I love you, too. My husband.”

Pushing away any negative thoughts about how he couldn’t possibly ever deserve her, he focused on being present in the moment. 

“So, Mrs. Noble. What do you want to do first?”

“You.”

He smirked at her simple answer. “You sure? We haven’t eaten in awhile. We could have dinner brought up.”

Rose rolled over, propping on one elbow and giving him a smile. He knew that look, and so did his cock. It twitched against his leg. 

“We can eat later. Right now, I want to make love to my husband.”

“Whatever you want, love,” he said, just before he rolled to cover her luscious body with his.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Caedmon  
> Beta'd by Untempered Schism and Tenroseforeverandever

Rose couldn’t see, John was making quite sure of that. He’d tied the blindfold over her eyes before they left the B&B and helped her to the car. The drive had been remarkably short - they weren’t in the car any longer than five minutes, probably less - before she felt the car coming to a stop and heard the engine shut off. 

“Still can’t see?” he asked, and the bemused smile she’d been wearing the entire time brightened a little. 

She countered with her own question. “What are you up to?”

“You’ll see in a minute. It’s a surprise. Blindfold still in place, then?”

“Yeah…”

He didn’t say anything else, just got out of the car and shut the door behind him. Rose felt the door beside her open, and she raised a hand so that he could take it and help her out of the car. Once he shut the door behind her, he led her a few steps before she heard him open a door that went into a building. A blast of cool air hit her, contrasting the warm air she’d just been in and giving her a little rash of goosebumps. He shut the door behind them. 

A few steps across the room, and he turned, taking both her hands. “We’re going to go down some steps now, but I’ve got you. Just take one at a time.”

She trusted him implicitly - of course she did - and he led her down the stairs slowly. When they got to the bottom, he let go of her hands. “Are you ready?”

Rose nodded, and felt his hands go to the back of her head to untie the knot there. The blindfold fell away and she gasped. 

They were in the cellar of a winery - hundreds of bottles lay on their sides in diamond-shaped racks. Soft, instrumental music floated into the room from somewhere. The brick walls were bare, but lovely, and she noted that, despite being a cellar, there was no musty smell to the room. It actually smelled…delicious.

Then she looked a little to her left and her breath caught. 

There was a table set for two in the middle of the room. It was covered with a white cloth, and silver domes sat over what she assumed were their plates. A bucket of ice sat beside the table, and there was champagne chilling in it. A large bouquet of roses that looked remarkably like her wedding bouquet rested in a vase in the middle of the table. 

“Oh, John,” she breathed, reaching over to take his hand. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, sounding a little nervous and shy. 

She threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight, before slackening her grip and kissing his cheek. How did she ever get so lucky? “I love it.”

“Good. Let’s eat before the food gets cold, shall we?”

Still holding her hand, he guided her to the table and pulled out her chair, waiting until she was seated before he took his own seat across from her. With a little more showmanship than usual, he lifted the domes from their plates and set them on a shelf to the side of the table. Rose was thrilled when she looked down on the plate - there was a salmon steak covered in a glaze, grilled asparagus, and red potatoes covered in butter and scallions. 

“This is just lovely,” she cooed, then reached across the table for his hand. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Can’t a man pamper his wife?”

She put her tongue between her teeth. “Makes me think you want something.”

“Who says I don’t?” he replied in a suggestive tone with hooded eyes.

Rose giggled. “Thank you.”

John squeezed her hand. “I had wanted to give you the honeymoon of your dreams, but we ended up going to Comic Con for work. I know three days in Napa hasn’t been ideal…”

“It’s been perfect, John.”

“Yeah?” He still sounded unsure, and she squeezed his hand. 

“Yeah.”

He smiled. “Good. Let’s eat.”

The two tucked in, Rose looking around the room every now and again in awe. Her husband was the most thoughtful, wonderful man who had ever lived, she thought. How could she ever possibly show him just what he meant to her?

She did the only thing she could think of. “I love you, John.”

He grinned, still chewing a bit of salmon, then swallowed. “I love you, too.”

They ate for a while, making small talk. Rose discovered they were still on the property of the B&B they were staying at. This wine cellar was rarely used, but John had asked for a romantic place to take his wife for a private dinner, and the proprietor of the B&B had offered up this space. They’d come up with a menu together, and John had asked for specific touches - like the roses, the champagne, and the small box next to the table that Rose kept looking at with interest. 

“The bricks are recycled,” John explained. “They were salvaged from the big earthquake in San Francisco. So many buildings collapsed - a big part of the city was virtually destroyed. Most people who rebuilt made their buildings bigger and better, and nobody bothered with the old materials. That left tons and tons of bricks abandoned. Some people recovered what they needed to complete their own projects. This is one of those projects.”

“It’s remarkable that so much beauty can come from such destruction,” she said, a little awed. 

“It is,” he agreed without looking up. He speared a potato, put it in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before he swallowed and spoke. 

“Rose?”

“Yes, John?”

“I hadn’t planned on talking about this tonight, but it’s on my mind. Can you trust that I’m not trying to manipulate you, I just want to talk?”

She looked at him strangely. “Of course I can. Do you have bad news?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he smiled. “I just… You said we’d talk about having kids later, and, well, it’s been on my mind ever since.”

Rose blinked a little, not sure what to say. She believed him wholeheartedly when he told her hadn’t set this up to talk about it, but couldn’t help but feel a little blindsided.

“You really want kids?”

“I really do,” he nodded, his eyes earnest. “Someday.”

“But sooner rather than later.”

John looked down at his plate. “I’m not getting any younger,” he started. “I’ll be thirty-eight this fall, and... I’d like to still be able to chase after them when we _do_ decide to have kids.” He looked back up at her then. “That is, if you want kids. It’s not something we’ve ever talked about, not really.”

“I want kids,” she assured him. “Someday. But I’m only twenty-four, John, and my career is just taking off.”

“I know,” he said a little miserably. 

“I’m not saying no,” she told him, reaching across to take his hand. “I just think we need to be married for a while first. Enjoy each other. A baby will change everything.”

“I know it would. But I…” He seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment, then went on. “When Pastor Docherty mentioned being blessed with children in the fullness of time, all I could picture was you, pregnant with our child. I didn’t expect to want that. Never thought I’d be married and thrilled about that fact, so I’d put the idea of having a family out of my mind. Figured I’d be a bachelor for the rest of my days. Now...well, I’m going to be with _you_ for the rest of my days, and I’m happier than I ever thought I’d be.”

The corner of Rose’s lip quirked up. “Going domestic has you thinking about a home life, huh?”

“A bit,” he conceded. 

Rose thought for a few minutes. She was only twenty-four, and not entirely sure she was ready for children. She’d worked long and hard to get to the place she was in her career, on the cusp of something great. 

“John,” she said quietly. “I just got my first role in a blockbuster film. A _lead_ role. I don’t want to have to turn that down because I won’t fit the costume.” He opened his mouth to speak, and she went on. “I’m not saying no. I’d love to have children eventually, and having them with you would be a dream come true. I’m just saying I’d like to wait a while. It’s a huge life change we’re talking about, in the midst of several other life changes.”

He nodded, not meeting her gaze. “I understand completely. And you’re right. You deserve this spotlight you’ll be in.”

She took a sip of champagne and eyed him speculatively. The thought of having children with John, of having a family with him, wasn’t something she’d ever contemplated, not really. But she was thinking of it now. Christmas mornings in their loft, a little child toddling towards the tree and the gifts Santa had left. John cradling a tiny infant in his big, strong arms. The three of them on a beach together, Rose holding hands with her husband while a little one scurried along and collected shells, shouting her find back to her parents.

Rose was surprised to find that every one of those mental scenarios warmed her, and that she wanted it. 

“Okay,” she said after a moment.

John’s head snapped up. “Okay?”

She smiled at him softly. “Okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want a year. A year for you and I to just be...you and I. Let me get through the shooting of this film, let’s see how next series plays out. When the year is over we’ll talk about it again, and if we both still want kids, I’ll go off the pill. We’ll see what happens then.”

He jumped from his seat and came around the table, pulling her up beside him. “Oh, Rose. Thank you.”

She put her arms around his shoulders. “There’s no need to thank me for doing something I want to do. And I think...I think I’d love to have children with you, John Noble.”

He bent to kiss her, softly and sweetly. “I thank you anyway.”

“You’re welcome.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Now get back in your seat and finish eating. It’s the last night of our honeymoon, I want to enjoy it.”

John gave her a wolfish grin as he slid back into his seat. “You’re going to. I promise.” Rose felt a little shiver of anticipation, his words inflaming her. 

He changed the subject. “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head. 

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Have a seat.”

He waited until she sat, helping her to scoot her chair in a bit. Once there, he walked around to the other side of the table and picked up the long, flat, gold-wrapped box that had been sitting off to the side the whole night. Passing it over to her with a grin, he told her to open it. 

Rose took the gift with a curious look, then popped the triangles of paper on the end. John rolled his eyes. “You’re the only person I know that unfolds a gift instead of tearing the paper.”

“Hush, you daft thing,” Rose giggled. “It won’t hurt you to be patient for a few extra seconds.”

“It might,” he complained. “Impatient, me.”

Rose put her tongue out at him and popped the tape on the bottom of the package, pulling the paper away. She squeaked in delight when she saw what was within. 

“You got me truffles!”

“Not just any truffles, love. Those are the truffles you liked so much, the ones the woman at Comic Con gave you. You liked them so much, I didn’t even get one,” he mock-pouted.

She laughed. “You could have had as many as you liked. I offered, remember?”

“Yeah, and then you ate the entire box!”

“They’re delicious!” she laughed. “You’d have done the same thing.”

He didn’t respond, beyond an indulgent grin. “Well go on, then. That’s your dessert.”

“Thank you, John,” she said, leaning across the table to kiss him lightly. “You’re entirely too sweet to me.”

“M’not sweet,” he protested without much heat. 

“You are, too,” she told him, kissing him again. “And I love it.”

Rose peeled the plastic off the box and cast it aside, mindless of where it went, and hastily pulled the lid off the box. Plucking out a chocolate with two fingers, she brought it up to her mouth and took a bite. Decadent, creamy chocolate exploded on her taste buds and a string of caramel extended from her lips to the truffle in her hand. 

“You have to try this,” she told him around the bite in her mouth. Reaching across the table again, she raised the candy to his mouth. He opened obediently, but when he closed his mouth, his lips caught around her fingers. He gave a little suck and a nibble before he released her, winking at her. She blushed and he grinned, chewing. 

“Mmm...this is good.”

“Told you,” Rose crowed, hoping her blush was receding. She reached in for another bit of candy and took a bite. 

“S’not as tasty as you, though,” John flirted. 

“Flatterer.”

“Truth-teller,” he retorted. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his face, kissing her palm. “I love you, Rose. I know I say it a lot, but I don’t think I could ever say it enough.”

“I never get tired of hearing it.” She caressed his bare cheek, taking in that daft face she loved so much. 

“Good. I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

John released her hand after a moment, and she brought it back, propping her elbow and putting her chin in it. “How’d I ever get so lucky?”

“You? I’m the lucky one!” he laughed. 

“I think we’re both pretty lucky. We found each other, didn’t we? Not everyone finds the person they fit with. Not everyone finds their soulmate.”

“No, but we did, didn’t we?” He lay his napkin on the table, on his empty plate, and stood up. Rose watched him come around to her side and he offered a hand to her. Smiling, Rose deposited her own napkin on the table and took his hand. He didn’t hesitate, just pulled her straight into his body, wrapping one arm around her waist and taking her right hand in his, pulling it to his chest between them. She smiled up at him - this was a familiar position. It was the way he frequently danced with her between takes while they were at work, pulling her close and ignoring everyone around them until they had to get back to work. 

Ianto had told the truth at Comic Con; John had started this little tradition between the two of them fairly early in their time working together. He’d first grabbed her and spun her into his arms while filming their second episode. She’d been pleasantly flattered; she’d harbored a crush on him for years, and even that early into their working relationship, she’d known that she was falling in love with him. She hadn’t known at that time - hadn’t known and couldn’t have dreamed - that he could possibly be feeling the same way. 

Now, though, she knew that his claims of ‘building camaraderie’ had been a bald-faced lie. He’d wanted her in his arms as badly as she’d wanted to be there. 

They’d missed months together while circling each other warily, pining. Rose resented those months almost as much as she cherished them. They’d been an opportunity to get to know each other, to see one another in a different light from the way the tabloids tried to paint them. They wouldn’t have, though, if they hadn’t had all those weeks and months of covert looks and handholding, slow dancing between takes and deep conversations. 

She’d learned that his reputation as the ‘Oncoming Storm’ was wildly inaccurate. He _was_ very intense and serious, and brought those two qualities to the set with him to work, but there was a lightness, a playfulness that no one ever remarked on. John pooh-poohed her when she said as much, telling her that his reputation was entirely accurate - or at least it had been until she dropped into his life. She wasn’t nearly so sure, but she loved him as he was, anyway. 

He had, in turn, seen that she wasn’t the bubble-headed pop princess she was made out to be. He’d told her later that he’d expected her to be flighty and vapid, but was thrilled to find that she was neither of those things. Rose enjoyed most of the same things he did, which had made conversation between the two of them easy. Even when she was unfamiliar with something he liked, he would patiently explain it to her, teaching her as they went along. She knew he loved to do that, and she loved to let him. He’d been visibly surprised when he’d found her paying rapt attention to the first of his lectures.

She loved surprising him. 

Like the night the news broke of their relationship and she’d kissed him. He’d never expected that, and looking back, she was shocked by her own audacity. The stories had made her distinctly nervous, too, because there was every chance he would do just what he’d tried to do: put distance between himself and her. She’d been terrified when he’d avoided her all day and had done her best to come up with ways to get him alone to talk about it. He’d looked so forlorn when she called him into her trailer, so defeated, that she’d acted on impulse and kissed him. 

It was, by far, the best impulse of her life. 

Now here she was, a year later, slow dancing with him in a wine cellar, celebrating their honeymoon. He’d married her - of all the women he could have chosen, he’d picked her to be his wife. He’d pledged his life to her, and she’d pledged her life to him. They were together, their lives inextricably woven. 

Rose rested her head on his shoulder while he swayed her gently to the strains of Glen Miller’s “In The Mood” playing softly in the background. John tilted his head a little so that his cheek was resting on her hair. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

“For what?”

“For everything. For loving me, for making me your wife, for being my best friend. I’m so grateful - both _to_ you and _for_ you. I’m so glad I met you, John Noble.”

“I love you, too, Rose.” He raised his head to kiss her hair, then lay it back down. “Gotta admit,” he went on, “it all feels like a bit of a dream. Like I’m going to wake up in my loft, alone, and the whole last year won’t have happened.”

She smiled. “If it’s a dream, we’re sharing the same delusion.”

“And what a fantastic delusion.”

Rose giggled and turned her face up to his. He recognized the invitation and lowered his head to kiss her softly. She parted her lips when she felt his tongue trace her bottom lip, but he kept the kiss sweet and tender. This was no carnal snog, this was the gentle coming together of two people deeply in love. Tongues didn’t tangle, they teased lightly. Teeth didn’t clack, they nibbled and played. Their mouths silently professed not just love, but utter devotion. There was passion between them, endless passion, but a lasting patience as well. 

He lifted his head after a few moments and Rose opened her eyes to gaze up at her husband. His eyes were bright with love, shining only for her, and a small smile curved his lips just a little. 

“Penny for ‘em,” she asked. 

“Don’t know what I did to deserve you. I’ll never know. Never understand it either, I expect. But I must be doing something right.”

“You’re doing nearly everything right.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nearly?”

Rose’s tongue came to the corner of her mouth. “Well, you _could_ refrain from telling the whole world that I hog the remote.”

He let out a barking laugh, throwing his head back for a moment then looking down at her with twinkling eyes. “I hope you’re not expecting me to say ‘I’m sorry’ for telling the truth, love.”

She swatted his shoulder lightly, and he grinned even bigger, that daft grin she loved so much. Her own bright smile matched his. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, John Noble. And I’m gonna love you forever.”

John lowered his head to catch her smile between his lips. With a soft smile, he told her. “I’ll love you too, Rose Noble. From here, we look out on forever. We’ll face everything this life has to throw at us, and we’ll do it together. Hand in hand.”

“Better with two.”

“That it is, wife. That it is.”


	11. Chapter 11

John was quiet on the short drive back to the B&B, excitement and trepidation about the night ahead keeping him introspective. He couldn’t help but feel a little nervous, hoping Rose would like what he had planned. His cock twitched in anticipation, but he forced himself to calm down. Tonight was for Rose, and he was determined to show her just how much he cherished her.

They pulled up at the B&B and he rushed around to the other side of the car to open the door for Rose, holding out a hand for her. She took it, smiling, and he smiled back, unable to help the joy bubbling in him. He pulled her close and closed the door to the rental, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“Ready for bed?” he asked in her ear, his voice low.

“It’s barely dark yet, John.”

“So? I want to take my wife to bed.”

She pulled back and grinned up at him. “By all means, then, lead on.”

John gave her his daftest grin, then reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Another one?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think anything could ever possibly top that dinner.”

He just gave her a cryptic grin. “We’ll see.”

They made their way back to the little suite, and John stopped her before he opened the door. “Close your eyes.”

She narrowed her eyes through a suspicious grin. “What are you up to?”

“You’ll see,” he told her. “Now close your eyes.”

She did as asked, and he opened the door, pulling her inside before he slipped the ‘do not disturb’ sign on their handle and closed it. Rose still had her eyes closed, and he led her to the center of the room, putting his hands on her shoulders to position her the way he wanted. She smiled brightly, and he took a deep breath before he told her to open them. 

Rose opened her eyes, and he beamed when her jaw dropped. He had to admit, the staff of the B&B had exceeded his expectations. 

Rose petals littered the floor leading to the bed, where the white comforter was similarly covered in pink petals. A bottle of champagne stood on the bedside table, accompanied by a pair of flutes and a vase bearing a bouquet of roses just like the one that had been on their table at dinner, just like her bouquet. The blinds were closed and the windows draped with gauzy fabric, the room lit only by a the fire in the hearth that cast a romantic glow over the room. 

“Oh, John,” she murmured. “S’lovely.”

He stepped up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, leaning his chin on her shoulder. “You like it?”

She turned in his arms, putting her hands on his cheeks and pulling him down to kiss him. His tongue parted her lips, and she opened to him right away with a little moan. John tugged at her hips a little, trying to keep himself in check, reminding himself over and over at lightning speed that this was about her, tonight was all about her. He couldn’t ravish her, not yet. 

“I love it,” she murmured against his lips. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too, Rose Noble,” he told her before he kissed the tip of her nose. “But that’s not all of the surprise.”

“Oh?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the blindfold from earlier. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely,” she answered immediately. 

“Turn around.”

Rose gave him her back, and he wrapped his arms around her again, placing the blindfold over her eyes carefully. 

“Tonight is all about you,” he explained into her ear as he tied the knot behind her head, careful not to tangle her hair, then pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

“What about you?”

“I’ll get more than enough pleasure from pleasuring you. And I _will_ pleasure you, love. Believe me, I will.”

She shivered a little when his fingertips trailed up her arms, moving over her shoulders and back to the zip of her dress. He lowered it, slowly letting his fingers caress the length of her spine as he did. She shivered again. He slid the dress of her shoulders, pressing soft, slow kisses to the newly revealed skin. 

“John…”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he brought his hands down to her hips, sliding the dress off of them and leaving her in nothing but her bra and knickers. 

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he ran his hands all over her, enjoying the hiss of breath when he grazed over a sensitive spot. 

“Just what are you going to do with me?” she asked in a sultry voice. 

He slid his hands back around, finding the strap of her bra and unfastening it. 

“I’m going to make love to you. I’m going to worship you. I’m going to prove to you that no man has ever loved his wife more than I love you.”

Her bra fell away, and he cupped her breasts from behind, teasing the nipples with his thumbs as he cupped her, massaging her gently, without urgency. 

“I’m going to make you scream,” he growled in her ear. “I’m going to make you plead. And when you’re utterly mindless, I’m going to make slow, sweet love to you until you’re dizzy with pleasure and can’t remember anything but how I feel inside you.”

One of his hands abandoned her breast and slid down to her knickers, his fingers slipping inside, finding her drenched already. “I’m going to taste every part of you. From your head,” he kissed her cheek, “to your toes. And when I’ve had my fill, I’m going to take you.”

“John,” she moaned, rocking her hips back against him. The friction was delicious, but he refrained from rutting against her. Just barely. 

He hooked his fingers into the sides of her knickers and dragged them down slowly, lowering himself down her body and leaving little kisses as he went. When he got to his knees, he glided his hands over the perfect peach of a bum on display before him, pressing a kiss to each soft globe.

“Shoes, love.”

John offered his hand to help stabilize her, and she stepped out of her shoes quickly, taking a step forward out of the puddle of her dress with his help. 

He got back to his feet, looking her up and down, circling around until he was in front of her. 

“Ready?”

Rose bit her lip and nodded. He took her by the hands and led her slowly and carefully to the bed, turning her when he got her there and gently pushing her backwards until the backs of her thighs hit the mattress. 

“Sit down,” he commanded, and she did. “Lay back.”

Rose scooted backwards towards the head of the bed, lying down, supine, her body visibly trembling with nervous energy and excitement. 

John tugged his own clothes off in a hurry, stripping naked, then took a moment just to gaze at his beautiful wife, laid bare in front of him. The dim light cast shadows across her body, but his view was still clear. She was the most absolutely gorgeous sight he’d ever seen, and he spared a moment to remind himself that he was the luckiest bastard that had ever lived. 

He couldn’t wait another minute to touch her. 

He reached over to the vase full of roses and plucked out a bud, checking it to make sure it didn’t have any thorns. When he was satisfied, he moved around to the other side of the bed, lying down beside her and propping his head on one elbow. Rose tensed, and he bent his head to kiss her shoulder. 

“Relax, love. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know. You never would,” she smiled. 

“Never,” he agreed. “Just relax and enjoy this, alright?”

Rose nodded, biting her lip, and he raised the rosebud, placing it in the center of her forehead and trailing it down her nose so she could smell it. She took a deep sniff, and her body relaxed a little when she smiled. He smirked, too, although she couldn’t see it, and ran the rose over her cheeks, her chin, her lips. He made a heart on her face, slowly, then dragged the bud from her chin down her throat. 

Rose bit her lip as he painted imaginary lines over her, finally bringing the rosebud down to her chest. Her nipples were hard peaks and he circled them and basked in her little gasp of pleasure. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he told her in a low, husky voice. “Much too beautiful for me.”

“I’m not,” she protested.

“You are.” He traced the rose around a nipple. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She moaned a little when he drew a line from the hollow of her throat to her navel, and the sound shot straight to his already throbbing cock. He lowered his head to her breast, using his tongue to map out the contours, mindful to stay away from her nipple for now. John took the rose and drew patterns down her arm on the opposite side of her body, then opened his mouth and sucked her nipple between his lips. 

Her back arched off the bed with a cry of his name, and her hands came up to thread through his hair, holding him in place. John tutted at her, pulling his mouth away from her breast and taking her hands from his head. 

“Ah, ah, ah, love. You just lie there.”

“I can’t,” she whined. 

He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the pad of each one before taking her forefinger into his mouth and sucking it lightly, twirling his tongue all around it. Rose keened, undulating before him, her hip brushing against his erection. Before he could stop himself, he rutted against her a little, then drew his hips backwards to avoid the temptation. 

Picking up the rose again, he used the bud to draw the glyph that meant his name onto her flat abdomen, invisibly marking her as his. Her belly jumped a little at the tickling sensation, and when he was done, he pressed a soft kiss over the place he’d marked her to seal it. Then he trailed the rose further south, to the junction of her thighs. He only traced the join of her hip and her thigh for a moment before sliding his body down so that his face was level with the place where she was wet and wanting him. 

Rose parted her thighs automatically, and he maneuvered himself to lie between them. He lay the rose to one side and brought his finger back to trace her seam, blowing cool air on her. She moaned his name. 

“Patience, sweetheart.”

“I want you.”

“You’ll have me, love. Soon.”

He used to fingers to spread her lips and gave himself a moment to stare at the mouthwatering feast presented to him. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, so amazing, and she was all his. 

Leaning forward, he drew his tongue from her entrance to her clit, circling it, teasing it into revealing itself from under its little hood, then suckling at it. Rose’s hips twitched, and he brought his hand up to hold her down before he slid his tongue back down to the entrance. He sharpened it into a hard point and slid it inside her, tasting the juices as they flowed, feeling her contract involuntarily around his tongue where it was buried inside her. He nosed at her clit as he drank of her. 

Her hands found his hair again, but he was too involved with tasting her to admonish her this time. He moaned a little from the scratch of her nails on his scalp. The vibrations seemed to inflame her further, and she bucked against him a little. 

“John,” she pleaded. “John, please, _please_...”

He removed his tongue slowly, circling her entrance then letting it glide back up to her clit. She whimpered again. 

“Need to come, John. Please.”

Without saying anything, he slid his finger inside her, smirking at her groan of pleasure, tonguing her clit. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed his finger in and out, mimicking the act his body was screaming for. “You want to come now?” he rumbled against her thigh, sucking it until he marked her. “Or you want to come later?”

She let out a garbled sound when he slid a second finger into her and turned his attentions back to her clit. “Maybe both?” he teased.

“Yes. Both. Good,” she panted, and he grinned even as he teased her. 

“You want to come now?”

Rose tightened her fingers in his hair. “Please,” she nearly sobbed. 

“Whatever my lady wants…”

He intensified his assault, thrusting his fingers in and out of her more quickly, making tight spirals on her little bud, pressing her hip into the mattress to forestall a broken nose. She thrashed and bucked, praising and cursing him, and with every word he focused on bringing her to the edge. 

When she was close, so close he could practically feel her teetering on the brink, he carefully added a third finger and curled them, coupling it with a series of licks and sucks to her clit. 

Rose screamed, arching her body into a bow, thrashing like a wild thing and calling him a god. He didn’t let up until she started pushing his head away, her hips recoiling from his ministrations. He eased up then, sliding his fingers out slowly and sucking them into his mouth to taste her just a little more. 

“Thank you,” she gasped between heavy breaths. “Thank you.”

“We’re not done yet, Rose,” he told her, kissing her hipbone. “Not by a longshot.”

John raised his body from between her legs, hovering over her on all fours and crawling until he could reach her mouth, then claimed it in a slow, sensual kiss. Rose reached for him, trying to pull his body down onto hers, but he resisted her, allowing their mouths to be the only point of contact between them. 

Her kiss was wild, nearly feral, and John was having an intense fight within himself to keep from lowering his body to hers and taking her, hard and fast, the way they both liked it. 

_No. Not yet._

He broke the kiss after a moment and raised himself out of her reach. She moaned at the loss, and he smiled. 

“Turn over, love.”

She did so, wriggling until she was now lying prone before him, between his legs. A couple of the rose petals clung to her skin, and he delicately plucked them off and flicked them aside. The dim light from the fireplace shone on her, illuminating her skin and making it glow. He groaned with barely-restrained lust. 

“Rose,” he croaked, feeling his control strain the leash. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

She turned her head so that she could speak to him over her left shoulder. “I know exactly what I’m _going_ to do to you the instant you let me.”

He shuddered, then willed himself to behave. “Not yet. Soon.”

John picked up the discarded rose and brought it up, drawing a circle in the small of her back. She jumped at the contact before sinking into the bed with a hum of contentment. He smiled a little, proud of himself for being able to make her feel this way. 

“You like that, do you?” He was trying to make his voice sound smug, but the tremble in it probably gave him away. Rose’s humming sigh was an adequate answer. 

After a few more moments of lightly stroking her back with the rose, he tossed it away, idly noticing it land on his side of the bed. His hands now empty, he spread his fingers wide across the flushed skin of her back, flexing them to rub the muscles under the skin. 

“Feels good,” Rose cooed. 

He didn’t respond, just kept rubbing his wife, praising her with his hands, worshiping her with his eyes. He saw Rose bite her lip, and he brought his hands down to massage and stroke her bum.

“Want you, John.”

“You do?” he asked with feigned innocence. 

She replied with firm resolve. “Yes. I do.” Rose raised her hips, pressing her arse into his hands. “Want you to fuck me.”

He let two fingers trace the crease of her bum, making their way down to her center. Rose, sensing what he was doing, parted her thighs as far as she could with him still straddling her and arched her back to raise her bum up into the air a bit, granting him access. He took it for the invitation it was and slid two fingers into her sopping, clenching heat. She groaned and raised her bum even more as he slid his fingers in and out of her. 

“Like this, Rose?” He growled into her ear while buried his fingers as deep as they would go. “You want to be fucked like this?”

She didn't answer right away, just rolled her hips, trying to take him deeper. He withdrew and she whimpered before he slammed them back into her, then repeated the action several times, fighting his own groan of pleasure when her walls clenched around the digits buried in her. 

“Want your cock, John,” she whined. “Want you to fuck me with your cock.”

“You don’t like this?” His fingers wiggled a little inside her, even as he thrust them in and out. 

Rose was panting. “S’brilliant. But I want to feel you. Want you to fill me up. Want to fuck you.”

John could almost physically feel his resistance snap. He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself at her opening. Rose helped by raising her hips again from where she’d relaxed from his ministrations. 

“This isn’t what I’d planned for you,” he complained, even as he pressed the tip of his cock just inside her. She couldn’t or wouldn't answer, too overcome to do much more than plead with him to fill her. 

He surged his hips forward, his pelvis pressing against her bum, giving the lady just what she wanted. She cried out a loud ‘yes’, and he moaned. 

Rose fisted her hands into the duvet beside her shoulders, and he leaned forward to thread his fingers through hers, bracing himself. Once she was clutching his hands, the rings on their left hands clacking together, he drew his hips back and surged forward to bury himself to the hilt again.

She gasped, squeezing her hand around his and her already tight channel around his cock. John bit his lip on a moan and thrust back into her, enjoying the way she pushed her bottom against him to maximize the contact between them. He started up a delicious but slow rhythm, bathing in the sounds she made, bending down to place slow, open mouth kisses to her shoulders. 

The thrusts sped up, and John smiled against the skin on the back of her neck when she started babbling. Rose always babbled before she came, and he wanted one more orgasm out of her before let himself go. But for now, he needed to calm himself; he could feel himself inching towards the peak and needed to slow that climb. To that end, he started thinking of anything _other _than the way she felt wrapped around him: work, the way she’d felt in his arms when they’d slow danced after dinner, the fact that no man would ever touch her this way again. She was his, had committed herself fully to him for the rest of her life, and even nearly mindless as he was, he recognized just what a lucky bastard he was.__

__She was his._ _

__Allowing his mind to wander had had the opposite of its intended effect, though, and his pumping was becoming pounding against his will. Squealing little impact noises came from below him, and he bit her shoulder lightly._ _

__“You’re mine, Rose,” he growled into her ear, even as he filled her over and over. “Mine. Do you hear?”_ _

__She nodded, displacing her blindfold a little, and he felt the telltale ball of tension at the base of his spine indicating that he was getting closer and closer with every surge and retreat. Rose needed to come, and soon, for his own sanity._ _

__He started a mental assault on her as well. She’d accused him more than once of likely being able to talk her into an orgasm, and he decided to use that to his advantage. He lowered his voice and ignored his own growing need for release, turning his attention fully to her. He disentangled one hand and brought it under her hip to stroke and massage her clit, even as he whispered endearments and filth in her ear._ _

__“Love you, my Rose. Love you so much. Gonna make you lose your mind, gonna make you come until you forget my name. But I’ll remind you of it. Your name is Rose Noble, and you’re my wife. My beautiful, fantastic wife.”_ _

__“Yes!” she cried out below him, her words punctuated by the increasing power of his thrusts. “Yours, all yours, forever yours, nobody else’s, and you’re mine. Mine, John. Oh, please...I’m getting close...so close…”_ _

__He sped up more, knowing exactly how she liked it and what she needed. His middle finger made tight, tapping circles on her clit, and she screamed into the pillow when he flicked it, thrashing below him and coming almost violently. He ground his teeth against the feeling of her walls clenching around him almost painfully and merely repeated the pattern to her clit, doing his best to prolong her orgasm._ _

__When she relaxed beneath him, he removed his right hand from between her legs and pulled his left hand back from hers, pulling himself out and flipping her over onto her back. He situated himself between her legs and whipped off her blindfold before he slammed back home._ _

__“Want you to see me,” he said by way of explanation, even as he pounded into her, his need too great to deny now. He leaned forward and caught her gasp in his mouth, swallowing it when he kissed her desperately. The motion of his tongue mimicked the motion of his cock, in and out of her, stroking her most secret places. When he broke away, he went back to the thread of the conversation he’d nearly forgotten._ _

__“Want to look into your eyes while I’m making love to you. And don’t doubt for a second that this is anything but making love, Rose. It could never be anything but making love with you. I love you so much, so fucking much, Rose...”_ _

__She scraped the nails of one hand against his scalp, through his hair, and her other hand clawed at his back. He looped his arms under her shoulders, improving his leverage, and felt her spread her legs even wider before she wrapped them around his waist._ _

__“Yes, John...yes! Oh, _fuck_... Please!” she begged. _ _

__Her eyes were staring into his, her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ that released little grunts upon every impact, and John couldn’t resist the temptation she presented. He closed his lips over hers and changed the angle of his penetration so that his pelvis was grinding against her over-stimulated clit with every thrust._ _

__“Love you, John,” she panted when he pulled away. “Love you, love you so much, love when you take me like this, love you!”_ _

__He put on a burst of speed, staring into the brown depths of her eyes. “Rose, my Rose, my amazing, beautiful wife...come for me, love.”_ _

__She came in an explosion of ecstasy beneath him then, and John was lost. He pounded into her once, twice, three times more, then roared in triumph and completion as he emptied himself into her waiting heat._ _

__The pulsing of his cock subsided slowly, leaving him weak, sweat-slicked and trembling above her. He collapsed onto the bed to her side, breathing heavily and cursing his age. After a moment, he pulled Rose, still shuddering with aftershocks, over to him, gathering her in his arms and nestling her rapidly-cooling body against his side._ _

__“That was wonderful,” she murmured against his chest._ _

__“Fantastic,” he agreed, kissing her hair. “I love you.”_ _

__“I love you, too, John.”_ _

__“I meant what I said, Rose.”_ _

__“Hmm?” she queried lazily._ _

__“No matter what we do together, we’re making love. It could never be anything but that with you.”_ _

__Rose lengthened her body to get to him, kissing him softly. “I know. It’s never been like this before.”_ _

__“Not for me, either.” He pulled her a little closer. “That’s the way it’s meant to be, when you find The One.”_ _

__“I’d always heard that, but I never believed it until now.”_ _

__He chuckled. “Nor did I. Glad to know all that romantic stuff has some basis in fact.”_ _

__They lay quiet for a little while, catching their breath and letting the air cool their overheated bodies._ _

__“John?”_ _

__“Yes, love?”_ _

__She propped up on one elbow to look at him and stuck her tongue between her teeth. “I still like it when we fuck.”_ _

__John let out a full, rich, bark of a laugh. “Me too, you little minx. Me, too.” He traced her arm with the tips of his fingers, staring up at the ceiling. Rose sighed and snuggled into him._ _

__"Penny for 'em," Rose murmured against his chest before she turned her head and placed a soft kiss on his chest._ _

__"Never would have imagined this," he said to the beams crossing over top of them. "Never in a million years._ _

__"Imagined what?"_ _

__He chuckled. "That night, in front of your trailer. I was desperate to figure out a way to make you...well, to keep you from hating me, really. I was blown away when you kissed me, and I've been blown away every moment of every day since." He turned his head and kissed the top of her head. "I never dreamed this could happen. I didn't dare."_ _

__"But it did happen."_ _

__"Yes, it did."_ _

__"And now we have forever to look forward to."_ _

__"We do," he agreed. "There's nothing we can't do, you and me."_ _

__"Lets show the world that."_ _

__"Sounds good to me."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untempered Schism and I made a decision to end this part of the story here, since all of these eleven chapters go together and complete an arc. The wedding/honeymoon/comic con arc ends here and the next arc - series two, Rose as a movie star, and some angst for our heroes - begins in the next chapter, we'll be starting a whole new story, hopefully next week!
> 
> Thank you so much for your support, comments and kudos for this little one shot that turned into something much, much more. We love you all! xoxo


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